Flew to Seattle last night. Landed in the freak snow & ice storm. Spent 4.5 hours driving 20 miles. On black ice. Fun.
Whoever complained about traffic has never tried to navigate H-E-B at 6pm the Monday before Thanksgiving.
I’ve just completed a week of intense training out here in beautiful California. Not that I saw much California – mostly just the inside of a hotel. Needless to say, I’m wiped out. My brain hurts, and I am in serious need of some sleep. I might write about this trip later….just not now; I need to process the experience a little more.
Well, ok. I’ll say one thing: if you haven’t already done so (this week), go to the Apple Store near you and play with all the beautiful equipment. Feel the love that is Mac.
I learned this afternoon that my parents read my blog. I was momentarily concerned that I might have said something at some time or other which might distress
me them. But they especially liked the story about The Funeral. I must have embarrassed them enough in my youth, so they can now laugh with (or, more likely, at) me.
A book recommended by a colleague is not at all what I expected, resulting in loud, uncontrollable laughter in a plane full of people, all of whom were staring at me. And when the heroine’s grandmother accidentally fired the .38 Special during dinner and into the roasted chicken, I absolutely lost it. Thanks Dian!
My cabbie was from Eritrea, and he was surprised and excited that I know where that is. He kept insisting that I should move to California, wanted to know if I have family here, and “casually” asked if I am married. He was undeterred when I mentioned my husband. Now those are some seriously impressive geography skills.
He says to you: “Orwell is to Tolkein what Huxley is to Lewis. Discuss.”
Tonight I am in The Sticks, WA. Upon checking into my hotel (and I use that term very loosely), I climbed the stairs to room 204 only to be met by a cloud of cigarette smoke. It seems that some of the rooms on the second floor of this particular establishment allow for smoking. Yuck! Fortunately, the clerk kindly upgraded me (!) to a room on the non-smoking first floor. The new room has a jacuzzi surrounded by mirrors. And handicapped railing in the bathroom. And a half-height closet rail. And no desk. Very classy.
The Sticks must be on tribal lands because a casino shares the parking lot with my “hotel.” This probably explains the smoking accomodations on the second floor.
There is food in The Sticks. If you like fast food. What looks like it might have been the one decent place to eat is shuttered and bears a crooked, dust-covered “For Sale” sign. And while I could eat at McDonald’s or Taco Bell or *shudder* The Golden Corral for dinner, I have standards to maintain. And HDL below 70 to protect.
good news is that while The Sticks lacks fine decent dining establishments, it does have a Super Walmart – which every respectable rural town MUST have. Tonight’s sad and lonely menu: Healthy Choice vegetable soup, Lean Cuisine Chicken Fettucine Alfredo (complete with apple cobbler dessert) and fine boxed wine. (Did you know it comes in single-servings?)
I got carded, as per usual. And then, someone called me “ma’am.” Ah, irony.
But, there is a silver lining in The Sticks. A Starbucks. With a drive-thru. *sigh*
It is not a crime to use a little fabric softener on the towels. So please, please, please stop treating your guests like convicts.