I remember the time when a six-month work assignment turned into a ten year Los Angeles sojourn. In that context, a few weeks of travel out of state seems a small thing indeed.
After all, that which does not cook us makes us sushi.
I like Alabama--always have. Pine trees, rolling hills, people not entirely culturally dissimilar to the people I grew up among, all combining to give the place an exotica of the familiar I find pleasing. I am not perfect at arising at 3:30 to get ready to catch a very early plane, but I get used to doing that over time, just as exercise flexes muscles.
Tonight I had grilled pompano, a regional delicacy I cannot dependably get in Texas. I watched this show called "Project Runway" for the very first time, as we do not get Bravo at home, and this hotel gets that channel. I did not see the whole show, but I understand why it is so popular with its adherents.
Now I've let the channel go onto "Cheaters", and it is time to change the channel, because life is too short. I turn the channel, and what do I find? That stylish Diane Lane movie about cheating. Artistic? Yes. But far too much of a mood with the last offering. Another channel change--a Marx Brothers movie. Harpo is fleeing, after hitting large man with the faux huge hammer. Somehow,that's better.
I managed to write a long weblog comment tonight on the scintillating issue of "mp3 v. ogg", which, perhaps explains why I need more runways and Harpo in my life. I suppose there are worse pastimes, though, than reflecting on open source, even if I lack any insights or inspiration.
Our plants in our postage-stamp backyard make our dogs happy--so much to explore and root about in and ferret out. The yard, coupled with new dog-friendly tennis balls for easy throwing, have made a huge increase in the canine contentment quotient in our home.
This morning I was besieged by a sense of gratitude. I like that feeling. I wish to be a conspirator for kindness.