Damn.

Gainesville

Back to the Funny Farm today-- always such a shock after being away for any length of time. Mostly it was digging out from the piled-up email (about half done with that) and a few trouble tickets. And listening to my cube neighbors go about their strange business and social dealings.

I did do one fun thing today, though: sat down with calendar and calculator to figure out how to distribute the seven weeks of vacation I need to take before October 1. Not quite finished, and it will probably change, but looks like I'll be taking one week per month plus making all 3-day holiday weekends into four days. That leaves me about 7 more days to sprinkle at whim. How delightful.

Mom, you scooped me on the Bruce tour dates. The announcement from Bruce was in my mailbox tonight, but for some reason didn't get delivered to my work mail client-- I wonder if the spam filter there caught it? Of course, it bums me out to see that The South is the only part of the country he doesn't come anywhere near. I don't think a trip to MSP will be possible in June, though.

Suddenly I remember that last night I had The Dream again-- the one where I go to a show expecting the usual mob scene, find hardly anyone there, and I can go down and sit as close as I want, but it's all so weird that Bruce and his company are dispirited and not even sure they want to play... I've had this dream off and on, in various guises, since 1978. My first Bruce show should have been in La Crosse, second row seats. He cancelled at the last minute because less than half the little 3K gym was sold. It was probably set off again by the news that his rehearsal show for this tour, somewhere in Jersey, was not yet sold out. Damn.

The hotel in ATL was the Atlanta Marriott Marquis, a fantasia palace built in 1985. It has a unique spiraling sort of interior atrium that is hard to describe, but breath-taking to experience. The service was top notch too, and one of the best hotel beds I've ever slept in. Bill wants to do Marriotts whenever possible from now on. We like the one we stay at in Tampa, which is right across the street from the arena where Bruce plays when there. We also have one we liked in Ft. Lauderdale, pre-cruise.

Lessee, what else about the trip. We did not venture out into the city at all, as we weren't there that long, and pretty much did Conference stuff non-stop. We ate all our meals in the various hotel restaurants. Their top line one, a steak house, was pricey, of course, but was very fine-- not crowded, beautiful, great food and service. We ate there twice. Ate the first night in the sports bar, not so nice; not well-laid out, crowded, most of the TV's showing round ball (and with the Braves right there in town!) Food there was pretty good, though. Bill ate his breakfasts and the occasional lunch in the coffee shop type place; I was more into the Starbucks and fast food stand for such excursions.

Bill quite enjoyed himself and wants to come back sometime just to be there-- enjoy the hotel, do some touristy things, eat out adventurously, take in a Braves game. I hope we do it. Maybe after October I'll be more up for taking the lead and planning these things.

While Bill was bogarting the wire, I didn't mind because I was buried in a fabulous book: Bob Dylan's Chronicles, Volume One. One of the most enjoyable and mind-blowing books I've read in ages. I still have 20-30 pages to go, because I can't bear to have it end. I read a little bit each night. Just amazing, and so unlike anything I expected. It's like huge parts of my own inner and outer past have been recovered from some buried site and been illuminated in unexpected ways.

The conf went on through Saturday, but we needed to get back to pick up Blue and the cat. We left around 9:00 Saturday morning-- only to have GPS fail to operate! There we were, in the middle of downtown Atlanta, without a guide. We were just minutes from an exit when we arrived, after all. I had maps, but was depending on The Bitch to guide the way, so had done no prep. I mean, how hard can it be to find I-75, right? We fumbled around up and down a few streets (nice that the rental had a built in computer with compass and it was a quiet Saturday morning) until we found a sign to the Interstate. As soon as we got on the road, we realized it was just a bad connection to the power (cig lighter) that was easily fixed. From then on, literally a no brainer. Or, should have been: we managed to foul ourselves up by taking a short-cut from Alachua-- BOTH of us, after all these years, getting 441 confused with Waldo Road... D'oh!

Blue had his 30,000 checkup along with getting his electrical system completely replaced. (Unfortunately, the speedometer they replaced read 31,000 miles-- the new one reads 50,000! Need to get this fixed.) They did the whole nine yards, and said that other than very low tire pressure, he's in great shape. They didn't replace the muffler because it would be much cheaper and faster to do it at a muffler place. So he still sounds like an old tin can. Looks great, though.

Thanks for the recipe, Sandy. It sounds wonderful. I put in your red (R) Glad to hear that your Easter feast went so well. Thanks for the picture!

Good FL progress, Mom. And how interesting that you had to deal with a rotten potato too! Obviously, the problem is exponentially worse in Florida... I would never in a thousand years have tried to put my monstrosity down the garbage disposal, though!

And thanks for keeping on with the Soares Baby Book. I need to look into hand-held scanners. The technology should be just about there for being able to get digital copies of these fragile but priceless artifacts.

My own FL efforts maintain, if not progress... I changed the sheets before work this morning, and changed the towels after work (they are finally dinging at me from the dryer just now). We didn't get home til 7:30, so for the first time in ages, we summoned a pizza. I hope the thin-cut boneless pork chops, planned for schnitzel, survive in the fridge another day.

'Nuff, a'ready.