that's right, sports fans...

Last night while packing I went to run through my mental list of power cords to go in the plastic ziploc inside my suitcase. Rather than rewind the cord in my living room, I went to the computer bag of my new work laptop and grabbed the signature black rectangle that is the PC power cord, already wrapped up small - still in the plastic! - and put it in my travel bag. I've been up for over 16 hours now, six of which were spent on the plane next to weird sleeping man, one of which was spent jostling through the back streets of Palo Alto in a door-to-door van from the airport, and half of one was spent convincing the hotel restaraunt to give me a salad and a big glass of wine. I get back to my room, planning to wind down reading my favorite blogs, checking Facebook, etc. only to find that the new Dell power cord COMES IN TWO PIECES! The reading I did on the plane killed my battery, so now I'm stuck until I can get back from the all day meeting tomorrow evening and walk to the electronic store half a mile away - and I didn't pack walking shoes this trip. Forget the work I was going to try to do in the morning, because I can't log in from a machine with no juice. And I already checked - no spare power cords at the front desk.

In case you're wondering, it too soon to tease me about this.

one week later...

Ok, so the weekend was a bit of a flurry, what with getting ready to spend this week in California - well, when I wasn't watching the Battlestar Galactica marathon in preparation for the new episode. But the rest of my time was spent getting ready. I wrote in my blog journal, but I'm not typing it in tonight. Tonight I'm in Santa Barbara, and after eleven hours of meetings, I'm so tired that over-cooked pork in my room service dinner made me cry. Maybe it was the forgotten roll. Or the ranch dressing when I asked for blue cheese... whatever tipped me over the edge, I called the kitchen back to say that, yeah, bee-atches, I may have been so hungry that I ate the mashed potatoes, green beans, and one piece of meat that wasn't dry cardboard, but I ain't happy. They took it off my bill, but I'm still a little hungry, and really, that doesn't make me a winner. One more glass of wine and I'm crawling under the covers, hoping tomorrow goes more smoothly.

on travel.

I just got back from a quick trip up to NYC for a math workshop. While waiting for a friend at a restaurant I actually wrote out a post about the meeting itself - mathematicians are funny. But this weekend I haven't had time to log in and type it up. I actually worked both days this weekend, and I started to elaborate on that fact, but just sounded whiny. I've worked the weekend away, and am hoping to take some time off at the end of the week to compensate. We'll see how that goes. I wasn't the only person frustrated with having to work over the weekend, however. As the train pulled into Union Station, a man across the aisle, completely content to hold an inane conversation with his cute, young, co-worker while the train was moving, suddenly became "the guy who must be first off the train." Now I sympathize with that guy, I am that guy - to a point. Saturday night, I wanted to turn around and say, "Look, buddy, sigh one more time. Because that really lets me and everyone ese in front of you in the aisle know just how much we're in your way." You should have seen his face when I ended up in front of him in the cab line... the evil part of me grinned.

daytripper

It was a busy weekend, followed by a twelve hour work day yesterday, so I'm looking forward to the long holiday weekend. I took the train up to Philly yesterday. Well, first I had to run for the train - I might have left the house a few minutes after I intended to. I made it, though, and just an hour and a half later we were sitting in a meeting room at Penn. Day trips are a little disorienting, because you start at stop at home, just like any other day, but somewhere in the middle you find yourself in a location that's outside your normal realm. We were delayed coming back, of course, which meant I got home ready for someone else to cook me dinner (yay, pub!) and hit the sack. Which is what I did. Not very exciting.

kickin' it geek-style.

I spent the first half of last week sitting in a room full of men talking about theoretical mathematics. It's been an interesting time. The only women at the meeting work for the government. There were guys wearing birth-control glasses, and not retro-nerd-is-now-hip glasses, but honest-to-goodness I-do-not-have-sex-with-anyone-not-myself glasses. Preemptive comb-overs. Socks with sandals. Looking anywhere but the face of the person they're talking to. We're rocking some serious savant-type people skills. It makes for some very awkward silences. On the other hand, they've got kids, which means somewhere there is a woman who let them leave the house like that. Among other things.

I've learned a lot, though. And the meeting was at a resort on the California coast, so, you know, rough assignment.

Sunday drive.

Sunday found me driving north on I-5 from San Diego to Dana Point, CA. We didn't live in California for very long, but there are a few things that flash back every time I'm in this state. Wading in the ocean with my sister and mom (and another adult - Uncle T. seems unlikely, but that's the laugh I remember hearing), the two of us kids running back to splash in one more wave, and Momola racing back down the beach as the water knocked us over. Starfish crawling on my arms. Ice plant. Breaking off segments to play hopscotch by the school, watching the sun shrivel the pieces like raisins in the sun, using the pieces to write on walls. As I pass through town, these memories are juxtaposed by the sight of the Mormon temple, and the picture of me sitting next to Annie as we head to the Whole Foods right across the way when I came down for a visit. We were driving the same car that took us to Whole Foods in Charlottesville, where Em would sample from the bulk bins as we shopped for our nightly haphazard dinners. Dinners consisting of someone making risotto, someone making chicken on the Foreman grill, someone cutting up cheese and vegetables, and everything ending up on bowls of salad - with Em and the other swimmers spearing food from any dish within reach, whether pot, serving dish, or another's plate of food. These are the images that flash through my head whenever I drive through San Diego. It's not a bad mental collage.

only somewhat pink...

If you've never been to Block Island, well, then get on the boat. I flew Friday afternoon/evening back to the east coast, where I promptly fell asleep to visions of vacation. Saturday morning there were crepes in Coolidge Corner and familiar streets to travel, but don't let me vanish into the bookstore, because I had a train to catch. Train and ferry caught, I found myself standing in the sunshine on a breezy island that is all that you imagine small New England beaches to be. It was glorious. Neeners, JanemyJane, and Jane's man Dean and I basked in the glory of nothing to do and nowhere to be. We splashed in the water, played lasso-golf, and read in our beach chairs. I got a little pink, which is why I'm all covered up in the picture. Dean bbq-ed while we drank white wine and played cards. We drove to scenic overviews and stared at animals that one doesn't expect on a New England island (kangaroo??). We laughed, told stories, and laughed some more. It was brilliant. Tuesday found me well-rested and looking forward to finishing the week traipsing about Boston. Rediscovering favorite haunts and tastes I've missed, catching up with old friends. I reversed the ferry and train journey yesterday, made my way back to Eric and Annie's home, pet that cat, and then went for a walk involving a pedicure (beach feet), a coffee, and that bookstore I hadn't let myself venture into on Saturday. I love vacation.

Golden Gate Gone

I've been to San Francisco many times. There were the days after a BIMA observing run (telescope time requires a little recovery in the real world), the afternoon after Annie and Eric's wedding with Em, Brec, and Matthew, and a meeting in January. All told I think I've been in this town almost two weeks, and while the hunt was not continuous, I've never seen the Golden Gate Bridge. I don't think it exists.

I mentioned this to a friend here at Stanford, before he drove up for dinner last night. "Done," he said, "bring your camera." I did, but the city was against me. Fog rolled in yesterday afternoon, and by the evening when we drove up to the base I could see the base of one piling. It didn't stop a gaggle of tourists from taking pictures in front of the fog, though, which in and of itself may have been worth the trip...

Whew! Are we there yet??

The answer is: yes. Somehow I survived - it only took me eleven hours to get from DC to Boulder, CO. I guess the good thing about connecting through O'Hare is that when your flight into O'Hare is delayed, you can be pretty sure that your flight out will be, too. It was the Super Shuttle from Denver to Boulder, though, that was the end of me. The big van shakes more than one of those old wooden roller coasters. It was a 45 minute drive. I sent the following email to the family:

From: Astrowahoo
Date: Mon, Apr 28, 2008 at 9:40 PM
Subject: I-i-i'm s-s-sh-shaking
To: momola, daddo, merebear, and christopher

Supershuttle? Soooo not the way to travel - my back itches from the
seat jostling my bra strap. I've bitten my tongue. And I can't hold
a book to read and distract myself. All I can do is sit here and
shake.


now it's time for a shower and some sleep.