Greetings from the land of watery-eyed, flat-assed office workers!
How goes  the burly mountain man thing?
I've been hearing second hand from Elliot that  you're faring extremely well mentally despite some poorly crafted sleeping  bags and a bad case of frostbite on your toes.
(That second part I made up,  but it sounded appropriate given the sleeping bag situation.)
All's well  here.
As you could imagine, and probably often do, the sweeping expanse of  people staring at computers that is Enron has changed not at all since you  left.
There are still many computers, many of them have changed positions,  some have gone away, most we are not sad to see go.
That's just the nature of  this cutthroat business.
Also on the stagnantly invariable list is the status  of my life in relation to Enron.
I am still here.
I still stare at the  computer.
Every once in awhile I meander over to the dark window-less corner  that enshrouds the IT wizards and ask them silly questions like, "What does  it mean when I hit this button and my screen starts flashing at me like a  disco ball, then makes this awkward shrieking noise and finally goes black?"
They are incredibly helpful.
I am still pretty much clueless about most  things, although I've learned to talk about them with a semblance of  authority, as in, "No, you twit, the 25 megawatt off peak deal should clearly  be flowing across SP-15 to NP-15 because of the illiquidity of SP's market  right now.
What kind of idiot wouldn't hedge their position in California at  a time like this?"
It all sounds very exotic and important to me, which is  why I'm still here.
But I'm infinitely jealous of your wild exploits in the  great American outdoors.
I suspect my forbearance for sitting in an office  will run out right around the middle of the summer, so I'm planning a trip to  coincide with that meltdown.
I haven't decided between a road trip through  the western United States or just a direct flight to Paris.
Both sound good,  and way beyond my budget, therefore equally attractive.
Well, I've managed to  say practically nothing for long enough now.
I do hope you're having an  amazing time, rambling on toward the next crazy adventure on the horizon as I  believe Jack Kerouac once wrote.
We're all very proud of you here and  constantly refer to you as "my good friend Winston who's skiing across the  state of Wyoming, which was my idea."
I'd love to hear about your trip direct  from the source, although I know you're extremely busy out there, skiing and  killing wild animals for sustenance and whatnot.
But please do write  back....if you can still move your fingers.
Sincerely,

bananas and other things you can call me with

Greetings from the land of watery-eyed, flat-assed office workers!
How goes the burly mountain man thing?
I've been hearing second hand from Elliot that you're faring extremely well mentally despite some poorly crafted sleeping bags and a bad case of frostbite on your toes.
(That second part I made up, but it sounded appropriate given the sleeping bag situation.)
All's well here.
As you could imagine, and probably often do, the sweeping expanse of people staring at computers that is <COMPANY> has changed not at all since you left.
There are still many computers, many of them have changed positions, some have gone away, most we are not sad to see go.
That's just the nature of this cutthroat business.
Also on the stagnantly invariable list is the status of my life in relation to <COMPANY>.
I am still here.
I still stare at the computer.
Every once in awhile I meander over to the dark window-less corner that enshrouds the IT wizards and ask them silly questions like, "What does it mean when I hit this button and my screen starts flashing at me like a disco ball, then makes this awkward shrieking noise and finally goes black?"
They are incredibly helpful.
I am still pretty much clueless about most things, although I've learned to talk about them with a semblance of authority, as in, "No, you twit, the <NUMBER> megawatt off peak deal should clearly be flowing across SP-<NUMBER> to NP-<NUMBER> because of the illiquidity of SP's market right now.
What kind of idiot wouldn't hedge their position in California at a time like this?"
It all sounds very exotic and important to me, which is why I'm still here.
But I'm infinitely jealous of your wild exploits in the great American outdoors.
I suspect my forbearance for sitting in an office will run out right around the middle of the summer, so I'm planning a trip to coincide with that meltdown.
I haven't decided between a road trip through the western United States or just a direct flight to Paris.
Both sound good, and way beyond my budget, therefore equally attractive.
Well, I've managed to say practically nothing for long enough now.
I do hope you're having an amazing time, rambling on toward the next crazy adventure on the horizon as I believe Jack Kerouac once wrote.
We're all very proud of you here and constantly refer to you as "my good friend Winston who's skiing across the state of Wyoming, which was my idea."
I'd love to hear about your trip direct from the source, although I know you're extremely busy out there, skiing and killing wild animals for sustenance and whatnot.
But please do write back....if you can still move your fingers.
Sincerely,
number megawatt peak expanse dark window corner noise finally goes faring extremely mentally computers company changed animals sustenance summer planning trip like does mean