I've been (and am) extremely busy this month and haven't had much time to write. Over this weekend, I coded a new site for San Antonio Contemporary Art Month. Right now it's just bare bones, but I'm happy with the look and am learning much. The contact form was the most monstrous script I've ever written, hopefully in the near future I'll be able to get it under control. I was almost driven entirely mad by a single extra space between the name and id attributes in a form field, but finally found it.
I'm flying to Colorado in a couple of hours to pick up my Canyon Arrow™, so maybe I'll be able to write more on the plane.
So at this point I astutely realized that my nice spring afternoon was clearly going to be ruined and wondered where the hell did he get all that gold. My companion wasn't much help, our eyes met with my question but her stare was basically blank.
As one awkward moment segues into the next, my challenger addressed me from a very throne-like seat just behind the low-dive, "Good day sweet prince," (have I mentioned how much I hate it when people call me that) "On this fine day I respectfully declare a challenge to your kingship under the protections of the civil code as witnessed by those who stand before us. My merit is proven by the benefits which I bestow the people, I have..."
"Your merits are acknowledged and contrary to popular belief, I'm not so attached to my crown that I'm not willing to lay it down if I lose a fair challenge." Whatever, I know at this point I'm supposed to call in the lawyers and exchequers but for some reason I felt like king or no king, I'd rather get this over with. Maybe it was pure curiosity or maybe I just wanted to impress the girl, but there was no way I was backing down to this guy.
"Very well, and I am willing to gamble my fortune..."
"And your pizza recipe."
"...and my recipe for pizza, against my victory. The challenge is this: he who can swim across the pool fastest wins the crown."