Flying Home

Last Edit February 13, 1999

I am on my way to SFO. On time for this flight. Both of my ears have managed to pop as I drift in and out of sleep propped in the window. My thumb has split open from the cold and aches. My nose is now really stuffed.
But outside the plane the Sierras look like underdone meringue. Beautiful.
I would have missed seeing the sea of snow fields if I had made the connecting flight last night.
Acres and acres of snow and peaks.
I ask for and get TWO cups of hot tea. Lipton. I need them.
I am going to pay for forgetting to bring my allergy spray.
We will land at 9:30AM if on schedule.
If I can get home by 11 and leave it again by 12 I can make my meeting.
Damned efficient of me I must say.
Unfortunately, 40% of my MBO plan is web work. I won't be particularly useful today.
I plan to come in Monday to "play" with my new software. Dreamweaver II, Fireworks and Flame.
Guess which website gets played with?
It'd how I learn things.
By doing them.
These software tools from Macromedia look great so far. For $800 they should. Come to think of it, that's what I just spent on this trip.
I want button rollover.
I do. I do.
And, even if in a former life I have been a programmer, I don't want to code in C++ now. OR Java.
I want tools that do it for me.
Give me tools.
I feel the need to play.

We land at 9:22 AM at SFO.
At last At last.
The pilot, I told you they were too chipper, announces that we have "snuck up on the rampers. There is no one to meet us."
So we will have to sit out here and wait.
Aren't we a little to big to mislay?

It was a struggle but I found Anza's shuttle. And am feeling very proud of myself.
I have now found my car.
I remembered right, it is almost out of gas.
The door lock was still frozen and I had to jiggle the key to get in. I have now completely lost the brake light in the rear window.
Crisis management - it has been falling down and apart for two years. Now I will miraculously find time to get it repaired.
I exit the lot and head for the freeway, scanning for gas.
I get on the freeway going, hold your breath, in the right direction, South.
I drive 75 - the going speed when possible an no cops disturb you in the morning - scanning for gas. I decide it's time to try the Dunbarton bridge.
I amaze myself and navigate this successfully all the way.
I even find my way from Dunbarton to the gas station three blocks from my house.
I put in 12 gallons of gas. Plus.
I was out. One step from stalling.
Ye gads.
But the Gods must have decided I have had enough so I am now loaded and pull into the house.
No, the Gods were just waiting.
My kid has trashed the place in two days.
Food detritus has spread through every room.
He must have let the dog in on the new rug (she digs in the construction dirt) and it is in puppy prints all the length of the new room and the hallway.
One can of rug cleaner later, it is still there.
I am spraying as I change for work.
The bike, for which I cleaned the garage last week, is parked in the livingroom.
The garbage can overflowith.
If he was home I'd kill him.
The dog is hungry.
The rabbit is frantic for water.
Ditto the chinchillas.
The cat races through the house in gremlin mode until I discover his dishes are also empty.
Needless to say, I made the meeting.
I am efficient.
And slightly rabid.