What was lost...ain't lost no more...and other stuff

Is it the most important part of my life? No. My family gets the honor of being most important. But let's face it: my technology is such an integral part of how I communicate and interact with family and friends and the rest of the world. USAir called a little over a week after we returned and said "we have your iPad!" It arrived home three days later and was promptly snuggled up on the Dexter wrap, having it's battery charged. I like my new laptop, too, but I have to get accustomed to the keyboard which is considerably different from my previous one.

 ...basically, it's getting an energy massage. 

I included some of my latest yarn and little chachki's from our recent trip to Seattle. The yarn is three of eight skeins purchased at Linda's Knit 'n Stitch. As a newly minted weaver, I thought that these three ribbon yarn colors would look really neat in a woven object. Another skein is black alpaca for the sock yarn blankie, and four skeins of Araucania Ruca Multi, which I've started working with and AM NOT liking. More on that later.

The chachki's are Seattle icons: the Space Needle and a Washington State Ferry (on the far right). I already had the smallest on the far left from a previous trip. Seattle isn't really my hometown: I grew up across the water, a mere ferry ride away. But having lived in Seattle for many years, and spent many years traveling to and fro for work, pleasure, and education, I feel like it is. I love the city. I wish we could afford to live downtown in one of those awesome highrise buildings with the dog park on top of the building. We fantasized about that during the entire three weeks out there. And about living in my parents house because my mom has the most beautiful back yard. We had fresh, warm, just-plucked-off-the-plant every other day - walk out to the patio and there they are. Mom pinched off fresh mint to brew with the iced tea. Don't worry, Mom, I promise it won't really happen! But we've never made any secret of the fact that we really do want to move back to the west coast. It's easy to consider Seattle when the weather is gorgeous, like it was on this trip. It's much harder to consider it when the gray rainy days roll around.

Under the circumstances, it was really a lovely trip. Mom and Michael are wonderful and funny and generous and caring. Uncle Stan was, well, himself. We kind of had fun going through grandma's clothing and jewelry "omg, what the heck is that?!" "she wore this? Ewww." The women's shelters received a clothing bounty and the breast cancer society got a ferry boat load of wigs.

Mom has written volumes (almost volumes) about the odyssey of resolving Gramma's possessions, and I'm content to let her have that voice. I'm happy I was able to help because it also meant we spent a great deal of time together, just us. It's so easy to take for granted that my mother is a lovely woman.

More photos from the trip...

We love Angry Birds.

Mom is the one who got me playing this game. I returned the favor with an Angry Birds squeeze toy. We squeezed it every time we walked by, and the nieces loved it.

Jamming

Michael is really, really good. What a treat to listen to him play.


Seattle

Beneroya Hall, another reason to love Seattle. Husband included for scale.

Electronic Delays

 (this doesn't make any sense unless you know that my family name is Delay)


Kingston

Okay, yes there is more to Kingston than this clock, but there was just something about it that struck my fancy.


July 4th

Crock-pot baked beans, hot dogs, potato salad, beer, strawberry shortcake. Best July 4th ever.

Gig Harbor

 

Gig Harbor is a very touristy sort of place, but the views are spectacular, and the air is clean, and the restaurant was terrific.

Poulsbo

Left to Right: Chris, Zuzu, Mom, Ali, Me, enjoying one of Poulsbo's finest: goodies from Sluy's bakery. They still have the best ever maple bars, no one else's comes close.For me, maple bars and Sluy's are to Poulsbo what Krispy Kreme is to the South, but without the "Hot Now" signage.

Yoga in the back yard.

One must stay in shape, mustn't one? And when the weather is as beautiful as it was, you just have to do outdoor yoga.

Mt. Rainier

We watched Rainier be gorgeous during nearly the entire return trip to Sea-Tac Airport.

Cheers!

Newport News to Baltimore, Train #94, Track 1

I really love riding the train. Today I'm taking my second ride, this time to the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival, or MSWF.

When I first heard about MSWF, I thought it was up on the Eastern Shore, and I thought it was...well...probably pretty lame and small time.

Little did I know.

This is a big deal, probably second only to the NY festival in Rhinebeck. Folks just call it "Rhinebeck." MSWF is alternatively referred to as just "Maryland Sheep and Wool." As in, "Are you going to Rhinebeck this year" and "No, only Maryland Sheep and Wool." Go figure. I know people who go to multiple festivals each year. I just go to Maryland. Although, if I were in the vicinity of one I would go. There are two other festivals I would like to attend, though, and are on my wish list. One is SOAR (Spin-Off Artists Retreat) in Portland, OR, and the big jewelry conference in Albuquerque, NM. Artistically, there's a great deal going on west of the Mississippi and another compelling reason, among many, to move back West.

MSWF ain't small time and is anything but lame. There are a couple hundred vendors spotting everything from raw fleeces to spinnable to fiber to pinning wheels to needles, yarns, dye supplies, and, yes, sheep and goats. There are herding demonstrations (missed it last year, WILL watch this year), Alpaca available to pet, Llamas too if you can get close enough without being spit upon. The angora bunnies are fluffy and adorable. And fast. Last year I helped catch an escapee. There are lamb kabobs galore and I can't bring myself to eat it. I'm not big on lamb anyway, and eating them during a sheep festival seems a little weird. Not wrong or right, just weird. For me. Y'all do what you want.

I cannot help but compare last year to this year. Last year: complete newbie, totally overwhelmed. Doesn't mean I didn't spend some money. I bought my first 3 ounces of merino/silk fiber and an awesome tote bag. I got home and realized pretty quickly that the only thing to do with that fiber was spin it...but with what? And so it began. First a spindle. Then a little more fiber. Then a new magazine subscription (Spin Off) and a bunch more fiber. Then a spinning wheel, then DH gives me three pounds of beautiful Gotland locks, and now I have to buy more tools to manage that (oh darn). It takes over your life. I was totally unprepared for how attending the MSWF would alter my world.

This year I'm a pro. Or, at least not a complete newb. I have a wish list of yarn and the hope that some of the big name yarns I want are marginally on sale through the larger vendors. It's mostly sock yarn because I dig knitting socks, and love using the thinner yarns. Why yes, I think I will get some spinning fiber. I've been saving up for this. I went on a yarn diet so I could splurge at MSWF. And I have a pantry full of yarn so I'm not exactly starving. I was only planning to get a couple of tools - a really nice Golding spindle, a pair of Signature Needle Arts knitting needles (or at least eye ball them, they look delicious). I thought about getting a Charisma print, they are so so so cute. And I want to test some of the spinning wheels. A wheel is not in my budget. Nothing that large is in my budget unless it washes and dries clothing.

Until last Saturday.

Knitters are enablers, and they love shopping vicariously. The very definition of a modern major enabler: Knitter. Spinner. Vicki. Probably crocheter too but that's a different breed we don't discuss.

Saturday was the Sheep Shearing Party at the Juniper Moon Fiber Farm. Shepherdess Susie has done an outstanding job of creating a relaxing, fun, and informal environment for us shareholders. I know that raising sheep and goats is serious business but when we all decend onto her farm you almost wouldn't know it. She smiles. She laughs. She invites you (insists, actually) that you remove your shoes before you enter the house. No sense in tracking sheep dip everywhere.

So,: Kent, me, Cheryl & Rick, Vicki and Cuin, Romelda & John...we're sitting around in our folding captains chairs, laughing and talking about everything, and somehow we get to the topic of drum carders. We're fiber freakazoids so this isn't exactly a stretch. Drum carder=expensive piece of equipment that brushes shorn sheep locks into beautiful spinning fiber...and no, you can't just use a hair brush BUT I TRIED. A drum card is to spinners what a pneumatic drill is to a mechanic. You can use a wrench, but the pneumatic drill is so much more efficient. Anyway, turns out Vicki is in the market for a "little" drum carder. Let's call. it a sporty little compact, like a Prius. We throw idea that around for awhile, and she says how the one she really wants is the Lexus. I suggest how it would be cool to have five or six people buy "drum carding shares" to make the price palatable and be able to afford that Lexus.

Vicki is a world class enabler. I am too. We do it to each other. I bought a netbook and she drooled, then bought a netbook. She had a wheel, and I drooled, then bought a wheel. this is the big stuff. Let's not even talk about the small stuff. I learned my skills from the Mother of All Enablers, my DH. "Of course you want that honey. Go ahead." "Just get the whole thing, no sense in paying more for bits and pieces." You know these people who encourage you to do it, spend it, grow it, make it, attend it. And it's fun, so I'm not complaining. Vicki got to see my maker in action. I am not complaining too much about the Lexus drum carder I will likely take home with me from MSWF. There are, in fact, more expensive drum carders out there, but a girl must draw the line somewhere, even this girl.

I bet I get to spend more time with Vicki. Because why buy it now when Erin has one?

Two Travels Behind

The birth of the triplets disrupted the review I had started of photographs from our recent vacation to Callaway Gardens and mine and Kent's jaunt out to Lynchburg. It's been a very busy two weeks. Here are a couple of shots from both those vacations with the promise of more to come here and in Flickr.

Leslie

Kent

Taylor loved the marshmallow roast

Jane, watching beach games

Did you know that Callaway Gardens is the shooting location for southern segments of The Victory Garden?

FSW Flute Convention

Was it everything it was cracked up to be? For one day, sure. Did I mention that Susan cheerfully drove Amy and me to DC and back, and that Kent and David dropped us off and picked us up at her house in Williamsburg, respectively? Did I mention that Mary allowed the three of us to bunk in her room Friday night? Amy and I, variable that we are, were thinking eh, maybe we'd stay through Sunday. Or maybe i'd stay through Sunday and Amy would go back Saturday night with Susan. Or maybe we'd both go back on Saturday. In the end, we figured we'd seen all there was, attended the clinics we were most interested in, and decided that an extra weekend day was worth hitting the road Saturday night. So, we came back with Susan. We relied on so many people for this! Susan, David, Kent, Mary. Big kudos to them all for their helping hand.

In other news, I officially report to a new manager in a different team. Haven't met the new manager yet, but I have plenty on my plate because me and my duties moved, lock stock and barrel, over to a new team that specializes the stuff that I do. Analytics, trending, etc. More on this as it develops.

Nick is NOT moving to Maryland in March. Erica is moving to Norfolk in May.

A Woman Alone

I propose that women, dining alone in a hotel bar, are ignored by service staff. I propose that when Renee joins me we'll be hovered over like crazy, but until then I'll be virtually ignored. I can't propose whether it's American women or just women in general, but there is another woman here in the bar who is periodically alone, too. She has had her traveling companions joining her periodically, and it appears she is experiencing the same thing. So I don't think I'm exactly imagining this. Yesterday I noticed that unless I actually am able to make eye contact with the waiter or barman, then they will avoid looking at me.



It's pretty irritating but it's the culture, I think. Either that or I didn't tip the waiter enough yesterday. Is a woman with a laptop such an oddity? Perhaps that is a part of it. I ordered a chicken quesadilla a half-hour ago. I have to leave in ten minutes. It's not here yet. Last night, at the all-night hotel cafe, I practically had to walk up to the waiter and shake him to get services. When Renee joined me he practically prostrated himself to help us, and she thinks it's because she's in business clothes (suit). Actually, she sticks out like a sore thumb, 5'10" and blonde and thin. So duh, hard to miss. (Update: as soon as I started tipping extra I've been waited on like a queen, alone. HAHA!)

What day is it? What time is it?

We're so confused. Day is night and night is day. We awake at 2pm local time and go to bed at 6am local time. We operate on East Coast hours, so as far as I, and the rest of the bank are concerned, I'm having a breakfast of cheese and crackers and a cappucino in the hotel bar. Otherwise I'm stuck with something heavy from one of the other hotel restaurants. On the one hand my body senses it is morning, but on the other hand me eyes see that it's late afternoon and getting overcast. The sense of time, or lack of, is disconcerting. It should be ok, logically, but it's still weird.

The hotel is buzzing with "after work" activity. A caucasian man across the room, speaking French into his Blackberry, is having a chilled glass of white wine with what look like a basket of fritos (though I'm sure that can't be right). Seasons, the bar and lounge, is open until midnight, and spans two rooms across from one another. I am in the main bar area. Across the hall there is a case of sweets and other small groups of people computing or having tea or enjoying their first beer or wine of cocktail of the day.

When we were driven home last night there were mosquitos in the car. The driver had been standing around chatting it up with the security guards, and had left the door open. Renee and I fought bugs all the way back to the hotel. Last night I dreamed of batting mosquitos and hanging on for dear life as Renee drove us through the lawless Hyderabad traffic. I'm told it's worse in Bangalore and Chennai. My first India dream!

We've spent very little time outdoors. Probably a good thing since the temperature is hovering around 100 F.

It's Hot in India

Hey, it's hot in India.

Ya think?

And really really foreign. I know that sounds odd, and kind of obvious, but it's foreign in every sense of the word. Scotland was different, but I wouldn't call it particularly foreign. I don't think I can really describe it.

The flights were good. Business Class rocks, and I'm officially spoiled. Watch movies, knit, sleep, then we're in Frankfurt. Watch more movies, knit, and sleep a little, then we're in Hyderabad. A few weeks ago a woman at Barnes & Noble saw me buying a book about India and told me that what struck her most when she got off the plane was the smell. It's different, for sure, but not as offensive as I'd imagined. Not so far, anyway.

Did I mention that India is hot?

Helipad behind the Taj Krishna hotel, from my window, 3pm IST

We arrived last night at 1:00 AM India Time. It took forever to get our bags, and I think we accidently grabbed a bag that belonged to someone else! Woops. I didn't do it. We'll be working standard East Coast hours, so we're trying to stay with some kind of East Coast schedule. So, while it's almost 6pm in Norfolk, it's 3:15 AM here and I will be going to bed by 4AM. I think my brain is just going to have a difficult time with this. We'll get up around noon, see a bit of the city, then head to the site at 5pm. Monday is Memorial Day in the US, but there is no holiday here.

I've started uploading pictures to Flickr. http://www.flickr.com/photos/november19/. Some of the newest are first, but click on the group called India.

Kissy Kissy

Kissy Kissy
Opportunity favors the prepared. Shannon and I were driving into downtown Williamsburg and spied this little paddock off the side of the road. We thought those sheep were nifty looking, and the light was wonderful. I turned around a few blocks later and we parked beside the sheep and started taking pictures. This one happened so fast I wasn't sure I'd even gotten it in focus.
Originally uploaded by ErinKristin.

Annapolis Weekend

Today we're off to Annapolis for the weekend and Kent's 20-yr reunion. Nick and the doggies are watching the fort. Saturday is a Tailgaiter before the homecoming game (I think Navy v. Duke or something). I don't know that we'll stay for the entire game because frankly neither of us is all that into football.

ciao, baby!

Scotland Day 1 of 9, Part One

My numbering makes no sense. The REAL day one in Scotland is the morning we arrive, 8:00 AM local time. Our guide, George, met us at the airport and laughed over the amount of luggage we had, wanted to know if we were moving in. Accent? Oh ya. Heavy accent. They went to the what? the toolit? And who the hell is Mum?

I need to back up. The flight was wonderful. The last time I took a trip with my mother I was about 12 or 13 years old and we (Michael, Mom, me, Carolyn, 1976?) drove the old Mazda to Disneyland and listened to Beatles all the way. That's how I remember it, anyway. This, on the other hand, was Grown-up Travel. And I'd never traveled with my grandmother. I sat between Mom and Grandma on the plane, rubber-necking back and forth, soaking up the face to face time. I don't remember a single thing we talked about, but that isn't important. Important was the nearness and the touch and the smile.

All seven hours of it.

There were two movies, the names of which I don't remember but watched anyway. One was...Diane Keaton, Dermott Mulroney (what a hottie!), ding-dong from Sex and the City, Matthew Broderick's wife. I like her, don't get me wrong, I just don't remember her name. Oh, and that guy from Coach, I like him so much, he does those wonderful "Real Man with Grudging Vulnerability" roles. Mom knows his name. Craig? Ah. Craig T. Nelson. I would never have placed him in a movie with Diane Keaton. Never ever. I'd have called it a total mismatch but it seemed to work. But hell, I was on a plane, it was probably cut to shreds, and they were handing out dinner in the middle of it. Why couldn't they have done that during the other, less interesting movie?

I am my mother's daughter. We talk alike. We laugh alike. We think alike. We like the same style of eyewear, a la Elvis Costello. Or Buddy Holly, depending on your generation. We buy the same types of things even though we don't know the other is doing it. We love movies and British comedy...but then where do you think I got that, hm? We would continue to notice these little things and laugh over them through the entire trip, and I think it was a little disconcerting to Grandma sometimes. 12 years and 3000 miles apart and I grew into the adult I admired most. A lot like her.

Mushy mushy mushy. Mom and Grandma took cat naps; I may have dozed a little but I'm not an airplane sleeper.

Touch down. Pretty clean landing in the middle of a pasture. The Edinburgh airport is surrounded by pasture. Not a little bit of pasture. A lot of pasture. Green rolling hills and evergreens, and white fluffy dots that on closer inspection were sheep. We get off the place last, which makes sense because we'll be the slowest. You'd think we'd be the slowest, but Grandma was up and off! Didn't look back just marched down the aisle, off the place and into the wheelchair. She was three or four people ahead of us before we knew what happened. The took very very good care of us. Rolled us right up through immigration and customs, no waiting, thank you very much, have a nice visit, mum!

Baggage claim was strangely quiet. I looked for "no shouting" signs. Everyone was so...reasonable. Standing quietly waiting for their luggage to appear on the conveyor belt. The baggage was all right side up when it came out. No one crowded. Stepped up, took the bag, pardon me, thanks, and went off. The fellow who was handling the wheelchair for us set the break, got a baggage cart (free, hello) and did a fine job hauling our luggage off the belt and onto the cart. No no, you just stay right there...another fellow joins us and asks fellow number one if he needs a hand, which we do, and now we have two: one fellow for the wheelchair, one fellow for the baggage cart. Then we find George and it's beginning to feel like an entourage. George, Grandma, Mom, Me, Fellow #1, and Fellow #2. We take a quick bio-break, then to the car where the Fellows peel off too fast to leave them a tip. Bye, have a good stay! More about tipping later.

We're flushed and tired and excited and dazed. Right off I tried to get in on the driver's side of the car. I stood there thinking that something is wrong with this picture but I can't put it together. All the other countries in the EU drive on the right-hand side of the road, like the US. But not the UK. Stubborn asses, still on the left side. I suppose there's just too much infrastructure to change it at this late date. I wonder what the history is about driving on the left? Or driving on the right, for that matter.

Drive drive drive Do you want a take-away? We stopped at the BP off the motorway. It's not a highway. It's a motorway. Anything that isn't a motorway is a track. Coffee sounds pretty good. Three Americano's for the three Americanos...drive drive drive oh shit where's my wallet? Somewhere between getting the coffee and returning to the car I leave put my wallet somewhere and now I can't find it. It's not in my big green bag, it's not in the back seat, it's not anywhere nearby. While George finds a place to turn around and head back to the BP, I'm thinking. Ok, first the backup plan. I don't have a backup plan so I make one up: Call Kent and have him wire money into Mom's checking account so she can cover my expenses. This actually would work because I had set up bank transfer approvals so that I could wire money to her to pay for the trip. I'll have to call collect and it'll cost a fortune but it's my own damned fault anyway, and I'll have to walk Kent through the process because I don't think he ever logs in to that particular bank account! Back at the BP. There is one on each side of the motorway, with a pedestrian bridge. The pedestrian bridge is disgusting and stinky and dark but George and I cross it and look for the red wallet. It's more of a small-ish red purse, about 6x9 with a yellowish/orange interior. Bagallini. It has a detachable strap which was, at the time, detached.

George and I look everywhere in the BP minimart, around the gas (fuel) pumps, near where we parked. George talks to one of the officers who hang around for safety. We walk back across the stinky, disgusting, dark dank pedestrian bridge back to the car. I'm horribly upset. I have a backup plan, but I'm still devastated. George is beyond devastated, I think. He's a sensitive guy. I open the car door. Oh shit.

I imagine that there's this little applet running in the background, in my brain. When I set something down, this applet runs the "set down-pick up" routine. The routine has a natural break in the middle where it is waiting for the cue to "pick up." Sometimes the cue is conscious, I look over, reach out my hand, pick up the object, the routine finishes, and I consciously know exactly where my pocket book is. Sometimes, the cue is not conscious; something trips the applet so that "pick up" runs anyway, and correctly I might add, the hand reaches out, picks up the object, tucks it under the arm or wherever, although I'm not paying attention at all. Not for a millisecond.

Under the front passenger seat is the corner of my red wallet. To say that we were relieved is an understatement of significant proportion. It takes us a good fifteen or twenty minutes wring ourselves out from our first trauma. The "set down-pick up" applet ran exactly as designed.

I don't think I'm overplaying this too much, really. Back me up, Mom. There was only one other trauma during the trip. Stay tuned.

Next episode: Luss, Loch Lomond, Dunoon, and The Dhailing Lodge, Day 1 Continued.

Lesson #2: They don't have "to-go." Rather, they have "take away."
Lesson #3: If you don't understand, tell them to speak slower.
Lesson #4: Know where your purse/wallet/handbag is at all times. Keep it attached to your body. Not because someone might steal it, but because YOU might set it down and forget it in all the hubbub of getting Mum situated with her coffee and out the door with her walker.

Scotland Day 0 of 9

All was well until I got to the gate at the Norfolk airport. There was no place. It was late arriving FROM Newark to take we who were waiting TO Newark. Which wouldn't have been a problem except that the late departure ate up all the wiggle room I had between flights. I really thought I was going to miss my flight out. I set up a contingency plan with the folks at the gate so that I could take the next flight out if I missed this one. In fact, I had been removed from the original flight because, based solely on schedule, my Newark flight arrived after the Edinburgh flight departed.

But wait! The Edinburgh flight was also delayed by about thirty minutes. I got to the gate just in time to begin boarding. Mom was sweating bullets. She'd called Kent, who knew he couldn't call me because I did not take my phone with me, but he did tell her that the flight was very late leaving Norfolk. Not much a person can do except hope that it all works out. Which it really did. We all got on the plane together, Grandma and her walker, Mom hanging on to hers and Grandma's carry-ons, and me with my roller bag and shoulder bag. We had lots of STUFF. The flight over was pretty uneventful, but those first few hours before we left the ground in Newark were nuts.

Lesson #1: Avoid Newark/Liberty Airport at all costs.

That Scotland Trip!!!

It was soooooo fun! My pictures are here. In case the link doesn't work, copy/paste the following into your address bar: www.wildiris.org/galleryhome.html. I converted them all to jpg and just loaded them up. Like I've been telling everyone, I have a disclaimer: I haven't sharpened, color corrected, tweaked, replaced clouds or sky, removed people, added objects, or otherwise messed with these images at all yet. I'm still cataloging. I tried not to include duplicates but I'm sure I missed a few. I sent Mom three CD's full, and I'm processing photos for Grandma but it's taking longer than I'd hoped. This weekend maybe I can finish that.

Saturday

My plan today had been to hike (walk) the trails in the Shoreline State Park, but I've spent the last two hours collecting webcam links located in Scotland.

Oban, one of the places we'll visit while we're staying in Dunoon.

Glasgow, Buchannan Street. I don't think Glasgow is one of our stops this trip. It'll be the next trip.

Edinburgh, Princes Street shopping district. I'm sure we'll hang around here a little before we fly back to the US of A.

More Glasgow just because it's Glasgow, eh?

Dunoon webcam

Fort William, north of Oban. No, not as in Braveheart, which I'm told is down near Stirling.

Kyle of Lochalsh, on the road to Isle of Skye for which I can't get a webcam view. Argh!

Loch Ness. This is one wild little website. From this link you can do Tai Chi with Nessie (or so it says).

I'm learning about the Scottish terrain by pouring over my big map and visiting the web cams. I'll know even more once we get over there!!!

You're right, too long since the last post.

Gee, finally getting to my email and what do I see? Mom, chastising me for not posting often enough. She's right!!! Thank you, Mother :)

Nick is into his own life now. We had a wonderful visit with him during Basic Training Graduation. He was so excited to be able to buy things with money he earned that he picked up a new CD player and a PSP, which is a cool little gadget. He's off to Fort Gordon for 29 weeks of Advanced Individual Training (AIT) in his field: signal networks, aka communications. He'll be one of the guys who supports the communications gear, the signal for walkie-talkies, wireless data transmission, satellite communicates, stuff like that. For those who understand the MOS system, he's in 25U. Here's a link that describes those duties: http://www.us-army-info.com/pages/mos/signal/31u.html. Fort Gordon is located on the Georgia/South Carolina border, it's the gray smudge just outside of Augusta. I-20 is the freeway that rolls by. If he golfed, he'd be in hog heaven. Who knows? Maybe he'll learn? Nah, won't happen; no joysticks involved.

He called this weekend to say he'd be home for Christmas for two weeks. He bought his plane ticket today and couldn't wait to tell us! I'll share his mailing address when I receive it later this week. His friend, Nick (a.k.a. Redgate Nick), moved a few blocks away and is within easy walking distance and he's excited about that. Redgate Nick got him his first job at Luna Maya Restaurant. Our Nick has since left, but Redgate Nick is head chef now and he's so thrilled and scared. He is "Redgate Nick" because he lived on Redgate Avenue and we kept getting confused - the possessive pronouns didn't always point to the right character, and otherwise it's just awkward to say or write. We have to call him Michigan Nick now, though, because he lives on Michigan Ave. Which doesn't make sense in Colonial Place where the streets are named after the first thirteen and a couple of important sea captains, of whom Michigan was not one, I'm sure. I don't think we'll really be able to break the habit of calling him Redgate Nick, though, because we've been doing that for a few years now. He shall always be...Redgate Nick.

My management changed at work so I have a new boss who has been keeping me really busy. He's an entirely different character than my former boss and that's mostly a good thing but he has pretty high expectations that are welcome but we're out of practice. I'm having a blast with my photography and I'm getting better but I'm behind on scanning and sharing so I hope to catch up on that this weekend.

Kent is involved in a local production of Don Quixote, abridged. It's supposed to be an "artistic interpretation" of the traditional story that the director was writing at the time of the first rehearsal; Kent isn't so keen on the interpretation. A Don Quixote scholar, in Germany, is long-distance coaching the director and reviewing the script as it's being written. Kent is in a supporting role (a good thing since he's still working on his Master's degree). Rehearsals are most nights and the show opens the week before Thanksgiving. School is mostly interesting but the fun part is some robotics activity that Kent is involved in. I don't understand all the details but when I do I'll share!

Patrick is rowing six days a week: qualifying for his first level of master skuller (or whatever it's called) in a single, coxing for the women's eight on Saturday's for Hampton Roads Rowing Club, weekdays rowing with Maury High School's men's four because Norview High, where he attends, doesn't have a rowing club, and having fun little races with his coach, James. He's really hooked on this stuff, is exhausted by 7:30pm, and has a permanent sparkle in his eyes. I'm pretty sure that last is because of the rowing, as opposed to drugs. He doesn't have time for them! Last weekend was the big fall race, Head of the Lafayette. I have video, I'm editing, I will share.

That's it on the home front, and I promised Mom I'd post this last night which I didn't so I will this morning and hope she'll forgive me :)

Oh ya. Here's another photo from Fort Benning. Apparently some French battalion had as their maschot a dachsund. "We're so confident in our manhood we'll have little dachshund as our maschot and display him with pride!" (You must, must say this with a Frenglish accent, please.)

Saturday Morning

Harrisonburg, VA.

Wow, lousy night's sleep. Maybe because I'm excited to be here and didn't feel guilty for being here and didn't feel all pitiful lonely. Ah! I need to find a map of the area. The temperature is 18 degrees, and there is some patchy cloud cover. I'm right next to a Lowes but in the distance there are hills and fields covered in frost. I should get some coffee and get going. I've had my breakfast (ham and cheese on sourdough that I maded before I left), and coffee is free in the lobby.

Over the river and through the woods

to Harrisonburg, Virginia I go. It was a very long trip from Norfolk to here - I would say about five hours but I ran into some Friday traffic so I'll say more like 4 to 4 1/2 hours. It was dark pretty much after Williamsburg, which means at least half the drive. I thought about the fact that I do not like driving at night and yet three hours of my drive was at night. Maybe I'm ok with it if I HAVE TO. Or haven't already been driving for five hours. Ya, it's probably something like that.

The hotel didn't have my reservation when I called to make sure they didn't give my reservation away. I booked through VacationWired.com. They'll be getting a phone call from me and, hopefully, I'll get a refund or something. The published rate at which I booked was $75/night. I'm in here at $99/night, which I'm not real thrilled about but didn't feel like quibbling about it. Better to wait until morning when I and the front desk people are fresh.

I'm sure I drank too much caffeine - one Venti and a 32 ounce Diet Pepsi. Who cares. It's not like I'm on a business trip. I can do whatever the hell I want this weekend and no one is going to say "Oh, you shouldn't do that..."

Although my stated purpose is to "take pictures," the Woodrow Wilson Presidential Library is out here, which I didn't know, and would like to see since I've never been to a presidential library. Lots of history out here.

Staunton smelled like skunk. Or selenium. Something chemical. It made me sneeze. There was fog coming off the mountain when I came through Waynesboro. The hotel here is teaming with nubile and pretentious teens. There is some kind of high school dance - like a Winter Prom or something like that - and my god I remember that age and how the entire world revolved around me and how someone my age now was so old. I have graying hair, my body is drooping and sagging, and I wear comfortable clothing because I have better things to do than constantly adjust the bow on my oh-so-chic blouse. Or whatever. I'm not sure what my plan is for tomorrow, yet, but I have half a dozen brochures to look through.

TGITh

Bonus time is a good time of year. I splurged on a port replicator (Viao) and Prarie Home Companion tickets (April). I almost felt guilty about the port replicator, but it's an ergonomic thing, actually, and affords me one extra USB port. And, eventually, allows me to conveniently attached a 19" monitor. Or pick up and go at will (it comes with it's own power supply, yahoo!)

iHubby is in Richmond this week - he returns this afternoon. I've missed him in part because I've missed our routine. I want to tell him how excited I am to have my new infrared filter - and that it works! When he travels, he knows how to take care of himself. When I travel, I tend to splurge and not take care of myself. And I've been thinking about that alot lately and I wonder if it's because I didn't live alone very often in my early twenties. In fact, I think I lived alone for about four months. Really alone. And that's it. iHubby, on the other hand, lived alone for most of his 20's when he wasn't onboard ship. He's had a chance to explore what it means to take care of yourself. I know what it's like to exist around others, although I don't think I know well how to take care of myself in any context because it's always been about compromising time, space, or both. In retrospect, I did begin to learn how to do this in the context of my marriage. Then the boys came to live with us and that all pretty much fell apart and neither of us has been able to recover that since. We think we can once the boys are out on their own - out of the house!