travel

Traveling Eve

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There should be a name for the night before you go on a trip.  We’ve got Christmas Eve, New Year’s Eve, Erev all kinds of things for Jewish holidays, and I think there should be a word for the night before other big events.  First Day of School Eve.  First Day of New Job Eve.  Wedding Eve.  And Traveling Eve.  Or maybe Trip Eve.  With subsets for Vacation Eve and Business Trip Eve.  There’s always so much to do, and I think those nights should be recognized.  Maybe it’ll catch on.

So I’m traveling tomorrow (I bet you’re totally surprised by that), and I’m not actually doing anything right now to prepare for the trip.  Except for laundry.  But I feel like I’m always doing laundry.  I have everything I need, so I can pack tomorrow and not worry about it for now.

In the meantime, I want to finish my book (it’s a hardcover, and I’d rather not carry it on the plane, but it’s good and I don’t want to start something else yet) and mope around with John for the evening.  We’ve decided that’s what we feel like doing.  Moping can be fun when you don’t have to do it alone.

Oh the bun-anity!

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My neighborhood was Grand Central Station for bunnies this morning.  I’d forgotten about that aspect of spring, so when I took the dogs for a run this morning (for the first time in more than two months, I think), I wasn’t prepared for their reaction.  Nearly got my arms yanked off.  Over and over and over again.

I am looking forward to tomorrow.  Very much.  I asked for the day off a couple of weeks ago, just because (and also because I thought I’d need the escape since I was convinced I would be less than a month from unemployment by this week), and earlier this week I thought about not taking the day off and just going to work anyway, but then my boss reminded me that this was meant to be an easy week for us trainers (to give us a break from all the stressful traveling) and I don’t have anything to do, so why not take it?  I saw her point.  So now I have plans for tomorrow.  Plans to run, to get a mani/pedi, to get my very first ever massage, and to buy a new suitcase.  Almost in that order.  I need a new suitcase…do I?  Well, yeah, I do.  The one I’ve been using (big, rectangular, purple, on wheels) is coming apart at the seams.  I have another rolling bag, but it’s more of a rolling duffel and I have to travel with some stuff for work that wouldn’t fit very well in that.  I could borrow John’s (and I will if I don’t find something pretty easily tomorrow), but eventually, I’ll need one of my own.  I’m putting too much thought into this.

Hamburgers tonight!

I filed it under D. For donut.

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I bought a donut today.  The woman asked me if I wanted a receipt.  I said yes, and I think you know why.

I’m in the airport now, waiting for the plane to arrive.  It’s a day early (me going home, not the plane – I’m sure the plane will be right on time (Okay, no, it won’t, but it won’t be a day early.)), and because it’s work-related, I don’t think it’s a good idea if I go into why I get to go home early.  But it’s not bad news or anything.  So, you know, nothing to worry about.

I had the BEST airport food when I got here.  I know, crazy, right?  Well, it’s not really airport food any more than any other restaurant in an airport is airport food, but still.  UFood Grill.  I’ve never heard of it, but there’s one near my gate and I got my lunch there.  It was GOOD.  (I just checked locations and they do seem to be mostly located in airports, so I guess I was right to characterize it as airport food.)  I had the Chopstick Chicken Bowl, which is chicken, broccoli, and carrots in a teriyaki thai chili sauce, all over steamed brown rice.  Spicy.  And good.  And healthy!  (Not greasy, for real.  I watched them make it.)  What a surprise.

I’ll be home in less than three hours, and I get to stay home for a whole week.  More than that!  Yay!

A few links to keep you entertained while I fly home:

The dishwasher was cold.  She cracks me up.

Jess found a baby chicken cam (similar to the puppy cam from a few years ago).  Go!  Look!  Melt into a puddle from all the cutesy cuteness!  (And while you’re there, steal her recipes for homemade strawberry ice cream and arugula pesto.)

I’m getting a lot of mileage out of Sunday

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Not a real statue.

See?

You may not know this about me, but I have a sign on my forehead that says “Pick me!  I’ll play along!”  I love street performers.  I’ll always stop to watch.  And 9 times out of 10, I get picked out of the crowd to participate in some way.  (Or four times out of the five I can remember off the top of my head, if you want to get specific.  The fifth time I can think of it was Sandwich Stealer who was chosen)  I love it.  This past Sunday, as I was leaving the aquarium to go to Harvard (and before I couldn’t find the State Street T station), I wandered around Quincy Market/Fanueil Hall and stopped to watch a street performer.  Of course.  Did I get picked out of the crowd?  Yes.  Do I have proof?  Yes!  Because I asked some nice lady to take pictures.  Are they any good?  No.  But here’s one anyway.

I handed those flowers up to him and then did weird things with my hand before catching that pillow and throwing it back to him. Fascinating, right?

I shouldn’t go to bookstores when I’m away from home.  Unless I’m out of reading material, of course.  And if I’m driving, I think it’s okay.  So really, it’s just when I’m flying that I shouldn’t do it.  Boston has lots of bookstores, lots of used bookstores, and lots of good bookstores.  I’ve been in four of them.  And one of them was on a sidewalk near Harvard.  See?

I found four books there, $2 each.  Then I went to Harvard Book Store.  New books upstairs, used downstairs, and bought a few more.  THEN I went to one near where I’m working and bought three more Lawrence Block mysteries (I’m in the middle of one of them now).  And I have to fit them all into the two bags I’m already checking to get them home.  No more!  I’ll refrain from entering any more bookstores as long as I’m here.

More from Sunday

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Some other things that happened on my one day off in Boston:

  1. I took the T from my hotel to the stop nearest the aquarium (which also happens to be the stop I’m using to get to work all week) so I could a) check it out for work so there wouldn’t be any surprises Monday morning, and b) get there faster.  The aquarium stop is the State Street stop, and at the stop right before it, this young guy, reeking of alcohol, got on and sat down next to me, ranting about how the cops should just leave him alone, you know?  Why are they hassling him?  I didn’t mention that it might have something to do with him being stinking drunk before 10am on a Sunday morning.  At least he wasn’t a mean drunk.  I could afford to be nice about it; I was getting off the train in about 30 seconds.
  2. I got off the T at State Street, grabbed a bagel from Dunkin Donuts, and ate my breakfast in front of a fountain between Quincy Market/Faneuil Hall and the wharf area.  It was one of those fountains that kids like to play in (I know, that’s all of them, give me a minute), the ones with water shooting up from holes in the ground at unexpected times, with no curb or lip to keep people out.

    Every picture of this fountain turned out like this. They're all shots of water splashing around and they kinda miss the point. Sorry.

    These two had the same morning I had: breakfast while watching the fountain and then the aquarium. I wonder if they followed me to Harvard?


  3. After the aquarium, I headed back to the State Street T stop so I could go to Harvard, but I couldn’t find it (the T stop, not Harvard).  I remembered leaving the station and being on State Street, but I didn’t look behind me that morning.  I circled the Old State House once, and headed back down the street about a block, scanning both sides for the orange and blue stripes indicating the station, and didn’t see anything.  I walked up to a street vendor outside the Old State House, finally ready to look (more) like a tourist and ask for help.  I was just about to open my mouth when I looked over his shoulder and saw the station.  IN the Old State House.  (Under it, technically.)  With entrances on both sides, even, so I walked right by it (TWICE) when I circled the building.  I’m an idiot.  Blind, too.
  4. So I managed to get myself to Harvard (good thing the stop opens right across the street from it, ’cause I didn’t have a map) around 2 or 2:30, and from the looks of things, graduation was that morning.  As in, just ended an hour or two before.  Hahvahd Yahd was still blanketed with folding chairs, and there were crews starting to break down all the tents.  And hey, it really is covered in ivy!

    Ivy League. Who knew?

  5. I hadn’t had lunch yet, so while I wandered around the outskirts of the university, I was keeping my eyes open for something local, maybe off the beaten path, ideally not crowded, and I found it in Arrow Street Crepes.  Check out that menu.  I had the BEST lunch.  I ordered the Earth Day crepe: roasted mushrooms, spinach, melted mozzarella, garlic butter, and parmesan, sauteed, melted together, and wrapped in a crepe.  It was the most perfect thing I have ever tasted.  (That didn’t include chocolate and strawberries.  And they do that in a crepe, too!)  SO so good, and we HAVE to do that at home.  The restaurant is a tiny little place on the first floor (up a couple of steps) of what used to be a house.  Basically just a kitchen and a sunroom with room for maybe 5 small tables.  Super cute and super good.
  6. Some more fish pictures for you.

    A depressed-looking lionfish. I heard a kid trying to identify it for his friend: "That's a catfish. No, a tiger fish." Close, but not quite. Maybe that's why the lionfish is sad.

    What's the name of the other fish in the tank with Nemo? Gill? You know, the one with Willem Dafoe's voice (unless it's Denis Leary...). Anyway, I think this is the fish.

    It's looking at me....

    Look, it's Dory! Honestly, I must have been looking at the Finding Nemo tank.

    Scariest damn thing I've ever seen. No idea what it is (some kind of eel maybe?), but it poked its head out and kept opening and closing its mouth. Creepy.

    Up close and personal. Cliche? Yes. Evil with dead eyes? Yes. Too close for me? Yes.

    This one's for you, Dad. Herring!

    And this one reminded me of Roxy. 🙂

    More pictures (not as many fish, I promise) and a few more bits about Sunday tomorrow.

Falling down tired

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I like that phrase. Except when that’s how I feel.  Which is now.  I was fine through the day, but my energy level plummeted on the walk from the T stop to the hotel, and when I got back to my hotel room, I could barely make myself leave again.  I did, though, and I planned to grab a quick light dinner somewhere and spend some time on a park bench with my book since the weather was so nice.  I managed the first part, barely, took a walk around the block in the direction of the park, and then decided this was ridiculous.  I can’t force myself to enjoy an evening in the sunshine if all I want to do is climb into bed.  So I’m back in my room, it’s just after seven, and I plan to take a bath (I’m coming up with this plan right this very second), read, and go to bed early.  I don’t have to be at work until 8 tomorrow, which means I can wait to leave the hotel until about 7:30, which means I can get up early and run outside!  In the sunshine!  In the early morning!  When it’s early!  (Which is what I like to do.)  Hopefully, I’ll have recovered from this general malaise fatigue by then.  (I looked up malaise – it’s linked to health issues more than I originally thought.  I don’t think I have any health issues.)

Why does travel take so much out of people?  I’ve never really understood that.  Maybe when you’re in the act of traveling, but why when I’m staying in one place for so many days?  What am I doing that’s so fatiguing?  (Pronounced fat-igg-you-ing.)

More Boston travelogue tomorrow, perhaps.

I went to Harvard

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You know, today.  🙂  But doesn’t that sound cool?  Here is how I spent the rest of my day off in Boston.  With pictures!  ‘Cause I remembered my camera!  And then I used it!  (A crucial second step that I often forget.)  I just reviewed every picture I took today (215, thank you very much), deleted the blurry ones, and there is no way in hell I’m posting them all here, even assuming any of you wanted to see them.  I’ll show you a smattering.  (Good word.)

First, after my run, I went to the aquarium (for several hours) and saw ALL of the fishes, the penguins, the sharks, the jellyfish, and an IMAX movie that taught me way more than I wanted to know about the mating habits of cuttlefish, which, despite how they look, are not squids.

Cuttlefish, not squid. In Atlanta, I heard a woman tell her kid, "They're called cuttlefish 'cause they like to cuddle." The kid was grossed out by the idea.

My penguin pictures aren’t so great, but I did get a good one of a clownfish.  EVERYone recognizes Nemo now.  In every language.  I kept hearing, “Blah blah foreign language, maybe French, then some Swedish or Dutch or something NEMO!”  So here’s Nemo:

I’ve got lots more, and lots of stuff about today, but I need to get ready for tomorrow and come back to this.  I’ll leave you with my attempts at self-portraits from throughout the day.  Clearly, I need to practice this.

1st attempt. Lesson: My sunglasses are reflective. Take them off first. But at least I got the aquarium in the background and my whole head in the frame.

2nd attempt. Lesson: Put something interesting behind me. I was at the sea lion exhibit. Why are they not in the picture? I'm not even facing the right way to include them.

3rd attempt. Lesson: Timing. That's the end of a sting ray behind me. Could have been the whole thing. No idea why the picture is so grainy.

Attempt #4. Lesson: Don't hold the camera above my head and tilt down. That's quite the lovely picture of the ground you have there. Also, again with the reflective sunglasses.

5th attempt. (You'd think I'd have given up by now.) Got the harbor this time, but it kinda looks like I'm stalking that couple at the table. Lesson: Don't take pictures of other people surreptitiously if I meant to take one of myself. (Only do that when I'm going to make fun of them.) Also, please please please get my whole head in the frame.

6th try. Not massively improved. At least my head is in the picture. I'm at Harvard, not that you can tell by any landmarks.

Last try, back in the hotel room. I can barely manage, after four tries, to look at the camera when I'm in front of a mirror. How does Dooce manage this? I tried putting the camera to one side or lower down so it wouldn't be visible, but I couldn't manage that AND get my eyes pointing in the right direction at the same time. HARD!

Who needs self portraits, anyway?

Running in Boston

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Best run ever.  Early morning (okay, it was a little before 8am, but it’s Sunday, so it felt earlier), a little overcast at first, a nice cool day, and I only had to share Boston with a few other early risers.  I’m only a couple of blocks from Boston Common (the Boston Common?  Or just Boston Common?), so I headed there first.  Beautiful.  It’s the perfect park, with lots of paths crisscrossing and SO many trees.  The entire thing was shady.  (In the nice, cool, protected-from-the-sun way, not the scary/sketchy way).  So I ran in random directions on the Common, passing the frog pond where a group of older people were practicing tai chi, and then along Beacon Street where I saw a guy throwing a ball for his dog.  I headed up Tremont and then took some spur-of-the-moment twists and turns, and before I knew it, I was at Quincy Market.  I hadn’t realized I was that close.  So I ran through the market (too early for anything to be open) and circled back around to the Common (tai chi people were still at it).  I ran by a church (and dodged around the early church-goers) whose bells I could hear from blocks away.  The melody was close enough to “My Country ‘Tis of Thee” that it bugged me when it took a wrong turn into something else.

It felt fantastic.  I really liked running around the city.  Running through suburbia doesn’t have the same thrill.  🙂

Alright, I’ve stopped sweating, and I think I’ve cooled down enough to hop in the shower.  The aquarium is next, and then Harvard, I think.

Because “Non Sequitur” was taken

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John thinks I should change my tag line from “What did you expect?” to “Because Non Sequitur was taken”.  And now that I’ve checked, it’s not taken, and I wonder if I should buy it…

In honor of John, here are a few unrelated items:

As I dragged my suitcases from the baggage carousel to the train for the rental car counters, I followed a woman leading a doggie train across the street.  Why didn’t I take a picture?  I’m an idiot, that’s why.  The woman had a rolling suitcase behind her, and attached to that, she had what looked like an overnight bag on wheels with mesh sides.  The top was open and there were two little white dogs (Westies, maybe) checking out the surroundings.  One was seated with just its head poking out, but the other was up on its hind legs, leaning on the front of the bag, craning its neck in every direction.  One of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.  They looked like they were riding on the caboose of a little train.

My last rental car (a Kia Spectra), while economy, had power everything.  You know, the normal things (windows, locks, etc.).  This one, a Chevy Aveo, has power NOTHING.  Can you remember the last time you were in a car without power locks?  Without power windows?  My first car didn’t have power locks or windows, but it was an ’88 Corolla hatchback, not a 2009 Chevy four-door sedan, and I haven’t been in that car since…1997.

I finished the Lawrence Block book, The Burglar in the Library, last night before I went to sleep.  That’s right – I liked it SO much I couldn’t put it down.  Started it on the plane, finished it before I went to sleep.  And as soon as I can find a used bookstore around here that’s open when I’m able to get there, I plan to buy several more of his books.  And there are lots of used bookstores in Atlanta.

I started watching Marilyn Hotchkiss’ Ballroom Dancing and Charm School tonight, a movie I’m pretty sure John isn’t interested in.  I am, but I can’t watch it now.  It’s about a guy (Robert Carlyle) getting over the death of his wife.  WHY would I want to watch a gut-wrenching, soul-twisting, tearjerker of a movie about a guy who’s lost his wife when I can’t be home with John?  I wouldn’t, that’s right, so I’m turning it off.  I’m going to curl up in bed with the next Dresden Files book ’cause a little light vampire-killing (or whatever monster he’ll go after in this book) is just what I need.

Me on a plane

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It’s ten to three.  We pulled away from the gate on time, did some taxi-ing (how do you spell that?  Taxying?  Taxing?  Taxiing?), and then came to a standstill on the tarmac with a message from the pilot.  “Something something something from Atlanta, 30 minutes before we can take off, approximate time of take-off 16 after the hour, blah blah ten-minute warning to turn electronics back off.”  So…why did we pull away from the gate?  Why board at all?  Maybe so those of us who are sleepy can nap uninterrupted, as both of my seatmates are doing right now.  (One is snoring.  Lightly, but still.)  I’m on the window this time, exit row again, next to two seemingly ordinary people.  We’ll see how it goes.  And Mom, I don’t ALWAYS have stories to tell about my flight.  On my way home from Atlanta two days ago, my seatmate was a woman visting her daughter in Leesburg.  She was a bit of a talker, but perfectly nice.  It wasn’t her fault that I wasn’t in the mood to chat.  (Maybe if she’d been a hot ex-Marine I’d have changed my mind about that.  🙂 )

I finished my Dresden Files book while waiting to board.  I have another one with me, but I’m going to try a new mystery writer first.  New to me.  Has anyone heard of Lawrence Block?  I read about his books somewhere (almost everything I buy comes from a recommendation now), but I can’t remember where.  So far so good.  The book is called “The Burglar in the Library”, the main character owns a used bookstore, and he’s heading to an English-style bed and breakfast to look for a possibly non-existent rare book.  Just my cup of tea.

Yesterday, John and I went to Erik’s place to help him celebrate getting his Masters degree in International Commerce and Policy.  (Erik, did I get it right?)

Hey, ten-minute warning.  I’ll finish that later.

Much later:

I’m in my hotel room after a trip to a nail salon (yay for pretty toes) and a trip to Kroger for breakfast and lunch supplies for the week.  Food and relaxing are at the top of my list for right now, so, um, bye.

It might be the happiest place in Georgia

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I would still call DisneyWorld the happiest place on earth (me and fifteen trillion of my closest friends), but I think the Coke museum in Atlanta (now The World of Coca-Cola) is the happiest place in Georgia.  (Ask me again after I go to the aquarium.)  I love Coke.  Me and Coke are buddies.  We like to hang out.

My class got out a little earlier than expected, so I headed out of the windowless training room on the 9th floor (windowless, yes, but NOT in a basement – big improvement) hoping to go for a run.  I got off the elevator to cloudy skies, but I was still hopeful.  Cloudy just means it’ll be cooler without the sun beating down on me.   Then I got outside.  Raining.  Hard.  Annoyed.  (Me, not the rain, although who knows?)  Then I had a brilliant idea.  I’m in Atlanta, it’s only 4pm, it’s raining, and I’m mere blocks away from a shrine to the only soft drink worthy of the name.  So I went – by myself – and joined a tour group and spent a very enjoyable couple of hours looking at all the Coke stuff, watching the videos, watching a ton of Coke commercials, and tasting many (not nearly all) of the really disgusting Coke products they manage to sell around the world.  On my way out (funneled, of course, through the gift shop, where I showed admirable restraint and did NOT buy myself a t-shirt), they handed me a Coke.  🙂

In sadder news, Roxy had a seizure this morning.  John said it was a cluster seizure, and she was in the middle of it when he came back in from his morning run.  Riley had done his holding her down thing, there was hair everywhere, and he’d slobbered all over her neck.  (No blood.)  John talked to our vet this afternoon, and she apparently jumped to the conclusion that the new medicine isn’t working and that Roxy needs an MRI (costs at least $1000 according to her (the vet, not Roxy)).  I’m not sure why she (the vet) went there so quickly, though.  Roxy’s only been on the new meds for a month and off the old meds for only three weeks, and in that time she’s had basically two episodes.  That sounds pretty promising to me.  So we’re going to ignore the vet for the time being.  (That’s a strange phrase.  Time being.  I’m sure I’ve said it before, but I don’t think I’ve ever written it down.  Looks too weird.)

It got late before I realized it, and I haven’t eaten dinner yet, so I’m out of here.

Updated to add Roxy’s second set of seizures for the day.  Three this time.  John may be leaving her with the vet for observation tomorrow, since he can’t stay home with her.

Meeting (and making) new friends

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Yesterday afternoon, I went to DC to meet several local members of the Dooce Community.  Spokeit, a regular commenter here (say hi, everybody) organized it (thank you!), and six of us showed up at Busboys and Poets to hang out (one with baby and brother-in-law in tow).  We talked about everything from ticks to strapless dresses (and puffed sleeves!), and I had a really good time.  I didn’t stay long (about two hours) because I didn’t want to spend most of my last day at home away from John, but I would like to do it again.  Maybe host it next time?  I realized, after I left of course, that even though I brought my camera, I didn’t take a single picture.  I HAVE to get better about that.

Oh, and Spokeit, guess what song was playing on the radio as I left DC?  That’s ri-ight, the ubiquitous (big word points) “Hey, Soul Sister”.  The universe is telling me (and everyone within range of a radio, Sirius or otherwise) to go to the Train concert this summer.

Last thing about yesterday: as I left the restaurant and headed across the street, a guy I’ve never seen before flagged me down and tried to pick me up.  !  He was carrying a couple of cloth Safeway bags full of groceries, and he started chatting me up as we walked down the block.  !!  Was I from around there (no, I told him practically West Virginia), could he have my phone number (“Well, I’m married…” “You’re married?!?”  “… and I was just on my way to pick him up.”), can he call me anyway and we’d just be friends and do I live with my husband (“Of course I live with him.”  “Then I guess I shouldn’t call.”), and then he chatted about the party he was planning for the Lakers game tonight, and then he crossed the street to his apartment building.  And I heaved a sigh of relief because I really don’t know how to handle that kind of situation.  That sounds ridiculous, I know (it’s just talking), but people don’t approach me on the street and start talking unless they need directions or something.  And people certainly don’t hit on me.  Or whatever that was.

And now, let’s add to the list of, shall we say, interesting people I meet on airplanes.  On my flight to Atlanta today, I had an aisle seat in an exit row that only had one other seat (on the window).  A quick glance at my seatmate showed a guy a little older than me, tall, slender, with majorly muscled arms.  (He was wearing a black tank top.)  He was on the phone and was doing that thing some guys do with their voices when they’re talking to women, sort of softening it.  (Did I mention he was good-looking?  He was.  Very.)   Of course I was eavesdropping (it only looked like I was reading), and it sounded like he was talking to his mother.  The flight attendant came by to make sure we were comfortable with the responsibilities that go along with sitting in an exit row, and as she left, he turned to me and said (with a very cute grin), “If it comes to that, I will eat that door.”  It was funny, we laughed, and it turns out he used to be a Marine.  Recon.  Badass.  That helps to explain the tattoos on his arms.  He didn’t seem like your typical macho Marine, though.  He came across more like the perfect sensitive Marine, the ones that only exist in the movies.  He said he was a writer and had recently been published.  What kind of book?  Philosophy.  Oh, and he’s a physical trainer?  I can see that.  And an actor?  Busy guy.  Anything I might have seen?  HBO and The History Channel?  Wow.  And he works for veterans’ groups.  And plans to start a gym in New York that will double as a rehab/counseling center where ex-soldiers conditioned to violence can work on moving past all that.  And apparently, he’s for real.  I wasn’t sure for a while.  He’s this guy.  Also, this guy.  And he’s trying to decide whether he wants to work on a Discovery Channel project next (“One Shot, One Kill” – he was a sniper) or something with Spike TV or one of three other TV projects.  And all of that came AFTER he talked about the training and the killing people and the violent episodes and close calls and how he worries about the guys in his unit who may not have been as strong as he is and can’t break away from the mercenary work they’re doing now that they’re out of the military.  WAY more information (and way more intensely delivered) than I was expecting to take in from a guy I’ve never met before on an hour and a half-long flight to Atlanta.  But he was nice, and he’s got a lot of projects going on, but the ones he seems to take the most seriously are the ones helping his friends and helping veterans.  He was sincere and had been through a lot, and I got off the plane wanting to help him (after I talked to John to hash out how strange the whole experience was).  Oh.  Oh!  How could I leave this part out?  So he’s worked with HBO (he played himself in “Generation Kill”, which started as a book by a reporter who was embedded with his unit in Iraq), and he’s met Ridley Scott and he’s done work in England and HE’S FRIENDS WITH EMMA THOMPSON!  He was her personal trainer for a bit.  How cool is that?  I’m two degrees away (or is that one?) from Emma Thompson!

I’m a gardening fiend

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That’s short-lived, I promise.  I don’t like gardening, but I’ll do what I have to do to keep the neighbors from attacking.  We missed mowing the lawn last weekend because of the trip to Pittsburgh, so throughout this past week, the grass got taller and taller and weedier-looking and weedier-looking.  It looked awful, so bad we could have been hiding cars on cinder blocks in the front yard, and we lost the dogs every time we opened the back door.  I knew we had a busy weekend ahead, so since I got home from work early yesterday (yay!), I decided that the least I could do was get a head start on the yardwork.  I spent over three hours out there, weeding my flower bed in the back and mowing the front lawn.  It made a big difference this morning, as John was able to clean, mow, and weed-whack the backyard while I mulched the flower bed, all in about an hour and a half.  (I carried every one of those giant mulch bags all the way to the bed by myself, and I can’t remember the last time I was so completely covered in dirt.  Actual dirty dirt.)

We were right on schedule to get out of the house with plenty of time to get to DC (I’m meeting some people – details will follow after our meetup), but then John checked his work email.  Apparently, something didn’t go quite right after an update and everyone’s panicking (probably unnecessarily), so John’s trying to calm them all down.  I’m waiting to find out if he’ll be stuck working or if he can still go with me.  End result?  We’re running late.  But, since this is a group party-thing I’m going to, it’s not that big a deal if I’m not right on time.  And since I’m leaving tomorrow for a week, I plan to only spend an hour or two at the thing anyway.  I’ll probably want to stay longer (I already want to stay longer), but I don’t want to leave tomorrow feeling like I hardly saw John this weekend.

Oh, we’re going.  More later.

Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair

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It’s time to leave San Francisco.  Almost.  I’m jumping the gun a little ’cause this is the last time I’ll be able to post before actually leaving town.  I started reading Outlander the other night…I might not finish it.   Of course, my only alternatives right now are another Dean Koontz book and something short by Dorothy Sayer.  I”ll make sure I have both of those handy on the plane.  And uninterrupted reading time on the plane might be just what I need to get more involved in this book.

I got up extra early today to make sure I’d have time to pack after I got ready, and I’ve spent most of that extra time on the internet.  And that means I have to go or I’m going to be late.  Can’t be late.  If all goes well, by this time tomorrow I’ll have been home for 8 hours or so.  I hope I hope.

Not the right time

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So…apparently a giant storm is headed our way (meaning home, not San Francisco) and is expected to dump a ton of snow (possibly more than in December) on us on Friday and Saturday.  Margot got our tickets changed to tomorrow, so we should be home not too long after midnight tomorrow night.  I’m kind of relieved.  I think I would really like San Francisco, but I’m not on vacation and I haven’t really had time to enjoy myself.  Marjorie and I were talking about this yesterday.  Most of the time, we can’t even tell we’re in California.  We could be in any city in the country.  So since there hasn’t been any time to really sight-see, I’m just as happy to be going home early (thereby ensuring I’ll actually get home, as opposed to be stranded somewhere because of the weather).  And I’m really tired today.  This class, even though it hasn’t been stressful, is really taking a lot out of me.  I’m standing ALL day, and I just want to rest, maybe take a bath, and go to bed.  After we finished with the class today, we did a little work to prep for tomorrow, and then we had an early dinner.  We went to an Italian place we could see from the window of the classroom and split a pizza.  Good pizza, and it was just enough food.  We asked the waiter if there was an ice cream place or something like that nearby, and he directed us to a gelato place around the corner.  SO good.  I had butter pecan.  Delicious.

So tomorrow, we’re going to check out of the hotel before class and leave our stuff with them, and then when class is over, run back to the hotel, change into travel clothes, and hop in a cab to the airport.  We should have plenty of time to make our flight.  And we’re already checked in (online check-in FTW!), so we don’t have to worry about losing our seats.  AND we’re in economy plus!  Still middle seats, though.  Oh well.  I’m seated right behind Mavis, so I told her she’d better keep me entertained or else I’ll kick her seat the whole flight back.

Anyway, I really really really want to come back here on vacation and do all the touristy sightseeing stuff and eat at all the fantastic restaurants and just hang out.  But right now, I can’t wait to get home.  I’d much rather be snowed in with John (and the dogs) than stranded away from them.

Ode to a hot fudge sundae

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I am SO full.  We got out with daylight to spare today (and the rain held off for the evening), so we decided to head to Ghirardelli Square and the surrounding areas while we could still see some stuff.  We made definite dessert plans (hello, hot fudge sundae at the Ghirardelli Ice Cream Shop) and just needed to find a place for dinner.  Again.  We headed for the water (less than a block away) and walked along Jefferson Street and eventually (okay, it didn’t take that long – there were signs) figured out we were at Fisherman’s Wharf.  So naturally, we had seafood.  We basically picked a restaurant at random and ended up at Tarantino’s, which was very good.  We were early (6-ish, maybe a little before), so there was no wait, and we got a table overlooking the boats in the marina.  I had prawns and scallops sauteed in all the delicious stuff (wine, garlic, butter, etc) with vegetables and rice.  SO good.  I called Mom and Dad during our walk back to Ghirardelli Square (and listened to the everyday drama of finding the other phone so they can both be on the line (I know I make fun of you, but I love that you do it that way.  I just wish you’d have the phone handy!)), but was, you know, forced to hang up on them because the banana hot fudge sundae was twisting my arm and marching me through the door.  Man, that was good.  But huge.  And I couldn’t finish it.  Madeline couldn’t finish hers, either.  She got the one with peanut butter topping AND hot fudge – they brought her three spoons.  Hm.  Maybe she could have finished it if she’d used all three.

I did well today, in class.  If I may say so myself.  No major screwups, no belligerent students (unlike yesterday, but I didn’t have to deal with them.  Myrtle did.), and when I misspoke (happened a couple of times), Mona was there to rescue me.  I wasn’t nervous at all, though, so that’s pretty cool.  🙂  I don’t think tomorrow will be much different.  Hope I didn’t just jinx myself.

Looking for dinner

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I remembered why I don’t like to exercise at the gym.  Hotel gyms, anyway.  They’re HOT.  Freakishly hot and humid.  But I’m not about to go for a run by myself, in the dark, in a city I don’t know, so a treadmill in the rainforest it is.  We did go for a quite a nice walk last night, though.  Martha’s phone died Sunday night, so we walked to a nearby Verizon store and figured we’d look for a place to eat near there or on the way back to the hotel.  We saw surprisingly few restaurants at first, but we kept walking.  Ended up at Union Square (I think), found a sketchy street, turned around and headed east (I think – no, it was north) for a while, found ourselves in Chinatown, dismissed one restaurant because it was empty and smelled weird, found a really steep hill (the first one we’d seen!  very exciting), and tried to find our way back to Market Street.  We did, eventually, and we turned east again, but within about three blocks we realized we’d gone too far east on California Street (maybe in Chinatown?  nope.  Again, that was north.), so we turned around on Market and found our way back to 2nd Street.  California was the hilly street.  We had dinner at a Thai place less than 2 blocks from our hotel (it was really good and we were really hungry) and then crashed for the night.

I think tonight we’re either going to find one of the French restaurants Evelyn recommended or head somewhere famous and touristy.

Today is my first teaching day, so I have to hurry up and get ready.

My GOODness

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The last…lots of hours have been both a whirlwind and the longest…lots of hours I can remember.  John dropped me off at the airport at 2:30 yesterday afternoon, and I met my coworker, Millicent (not her real name), in front of the United counter.  She’s got some kind of special frequent flyer status, so we got to get in the short line.  Usually, she (and anyone checking in with her (that would be me)) gets a free upgrade at least to Economy Plus, but we were on a full flight and no upgrades were available.  Sad for us.  Especially as we boarded the plane and realized that we were in the two middle seats on either side of the LAST aisle on the plane.  Yeah, those seats don’t recline.  We were in the first boarding group and got on the plane about 3:30.  Supposed to take off at 4 and land just after 7 PST.  My first seatmate, window seat guy, arrived.  He’s a big guy, a little too big for the seat, gray hair, very nice.  He was reading David Eddings, so we chatted about that for a few minutes.  Then Mr. Talkative arrived.  Tall and skinny, also with gray hair, he started talking the minute he sat down.  He travels ALL the time apparently, all over the world, and knows everything.  He tells funny stories, but because he knows EVerything, it got old fast.  (And he scared the 10 year old in the row in front of us with horror stories of flying in bad weather.)  But I was being nice, so I didn’t bury my nose in my book or reach for my headphones.  Anyway, while everyone was still boarding, a maintenance guy came by.  We heard the flight attendants talking about how the potable water system wasn’t working.  Then they made the announcement.  “We’re fixing the problem and will get in the air as soon as possible.”  At about 5pm, an hour late and after another announcement that didn’t give us any clue when we might actually go, I called John and told him I’d just text him when I landed, since who knows how late it would be.  At about 5:15, they made us all get off the plane.  They were either going to fix our plane or find us a new one.  But all other flights to San Francisco (and to anywhere that might get us to San Francisco) were full.  They weren’t saying where another plane might come from.  Everyone ran for the customer service desk.  By the time we got there, United was telling us to wait and see.  A decision would be made by 6:30 one way or the other.  So either the plane would be fixed or the flight would be canceled and we’d be getting on a 6am flight Monday morning, if such a thing existed.  It was just after 5:30, so we figured we had an hour and we’d go find somewhere to sit down and eat.  Wendy’s was the only place nearby with seating, so Mildred grabbed us a table and I ordered.  We got a frosty to share.  (We felt we deserved it.)  JUST as I got our food and was heading for our table, I heard the announcement for immediate boarding of our flight.  It was about 5:45.  Maybe another 15 minutes later, we were on the plane again, this time with food.  And now people were jealous.  But we had a frosty to share, so we were trying to figure out how to sit next to each other, just for a little while.  I convinced Mr. Talkative to switch with me, so I had an aisle, and then we noticed that her aisle seatmate hadn’t arrived yet, so I figured I could sit there, next to Miranda in her middle seat, and let Marcella’s aisle seatmate have the aisle seat that belongs to Mr. Talkative.  Just for the length of time it would take for us to eat our dinner and our frosty.  Everyone went for it, we all switched around, and the plane took off.  And then we gave away our fries ’cause we had WAY too much food.  So people liked us again.  Until the flight attendant (who wouldn’t take any fries even though she was starving ’cause she said it wasn’t professional) yelled at me for getting out of my seat too early.  I could have sworn the captain made the announcement.  He did make an announcement, but it was about something else.  That I totally missed.  Anyway, we all switched back when we were allowed to move about the cabin.  And then my rather large seatmate, window seat guy, started getting claustrophobic.  For real.  At first, he was just feeling a little overheated, and he’d ask me and Mr. Talkative to let him out so he could stand in the aisle.  That happened two or three times.  He got some ice, he had my air thingy and his pointed at his head, but it wasn’t helping.  Then he panicked a little and said, “Okay, I gotta get out of here.”  So we got up in a hurry and let him out.  I had already considered offering him my seat, but I didn’t really think putting this big guy into a middle seat was going to help at all.  I was working on how to bully Mr. Talkative into switching with him and letting him have the aisle, but when window seat guy panicked, the mom in the row ahead of us offered to have her daughter (in the aisle of that row) switch to his window seat (next to me).  Nice lady.  Window seat guy calmed down and was fine in his aisle seat for the rest of the flight.  It worked out for me, too, ’cause the daughter didn’t take up nearly as much room.  No more crowding.  That’s more drama than I need on a flight.  Mr. Talkative finally shut up, I was able to finish This Rough Magic (I liked it), and I got more than 2/3 of the way through my Dean Koontz novel.  But I was SO bored!  I didn’t have any puzzle magazines (stupid oversight on my part – won’t happen on the way home), I was uncomfortable, I didn’t watch the movie (it was The Informant!, which I really want to see (so does John), but the airplane was loud, and I couldn’t hear the movie very well, and I figured I’d just miss lines, so I’d better wait), and I wasn’t sleepy.  I don’t usually get bored with reading, and now that I think about it, I don’t really think I was bored at all, but I was uncomfortable and restless.  The rest of the flight was uneventful (yay), and we landed around 9:30 or so.  We were at the hotel by 10:15 or 10:30 (felt like 1:30), and then I collapsed.  I’ll get into today tomorrow sometime.

Who needs paragraphs?

Things to do the day before the day before traveling

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I’m going to San Francisco in a couple of days, and I spent all day (at work) making sure I have everything I’ll need.  Thankfully, I’m not going by myself, but this will be my ONLY supervised trip before we all head out on our own.  I’m looking forward to it (I like to go places, I’ve never been to San Francisco, and I’ll have a good time, I’m sure), but I’m not at the same time because John can’t come with me.  I don’t mind going places on my own, but I hate going without him.  But I still have to go, so now that I’m home, I’m working on my to-do list.  I have a packing list, but that will wait until Sunday morning.  I just spent some picking up downstairs and I’ve got laundry in the washing machine.  I’ll pick up in the bedroom as I do laundry.  You know, my list really isn’t that long.  Which is why I can take the time right now to write and change the look of my blog again.  So here’s version #4:

Not all that far from version #3, but that’s okay.

Oh!  I have to remember my camera.  No excuses.  Camera camera camera.

I just put it with the work stuff I have pack.  Yeah, too distracted by trip stuff to write anymore.

Update: One thing I really like about this version is that I can make changes to individual pages (like allow comments on the lists pages (favorite books, favorite movies, etc), and say no to comments on the main books and movies page).  Other versions force me to make a change universal for all pages.  That’s pretty cool.  Of course, if I weren’t using a WordPress template (coding each page by hand instead), I’d be able to do whatever I want to each page and this wouldn’t be such a big deal.