home for 14 hours

We are off for several days in Detroit, for a trip that has been many years in the making. We will spend time with two of the people who are (somewhat) responsible for Jeff and me working up the bravery to actually, physically, meet each other all those years ago.

Reconfirmation of state of being

I just realized I hadn't posted since I got home from San Francisco, and subsequently wandered off to Atlanta.We're fine—busy, but fine—but we are also in the final prep phase for dragon*con 2005, and as usual, that is eating up most of our spare brain cycles. I can't promise anything more than sporadic posting between now and Labor Day.

I haven't forgotten about you guys, but I'm going to be neck-deep in code work, prep work, and logistics for the next two weeks, so it's unlikely you'll hear much from me.

Back soon.

The naming and the knowing

Between dim sum tomorrow afternoon and my flight home on Thursday, I have no plans. No real plans, anyway, the kind with dates and times and directions. I have a list - a list of places I think I might enjoy seeing, and a guidebook that seems to have solid recommendations so far.

I know I'd like to have a drink with Matthew's brother Daniel, since we haven't seen each other since we were teenagers, and I'm curious to see how much we think we've changed.

I know that I'd like to see Crutcher and Theresa, but I don't know if our schedules will coincide.


"You have to eat, kitty."

I've heard that admonition in many different voices. On this night it was the combined voice of Brian-and-Suzan, who were playing the Unified Marital Voice Of Reason.

I don't eat well before I fly. All the aerodynamics lessons in the world aren't likely to change that; my discomfort with flying has nothing to do with the concept of flying and everything to do with the issue of turning over control of my life over to a pilot whose name I don't even know.

Back for a return engagement

Play me a groove
one for my radio
one for my love that came and went
So many stories -
hey man i'm sorry, Joe -
this is just a song to pay the rent
- Angie Aparo, "Spaceship"

Three weeks away made my home a stranger to myself. I walked back in and there was everything, exactly where I left it, my life exactly where I left it, and it took me a day or so to realize that I was what had changed. I was the unfitting piece in the mostly-complete puzzle.

Coda: Frances, part II

After fewer than four hours of sleep, I was on the road again. I'd been shaken awake with a jolt, and I was dressed and charging headlong into Brian and Suzan's kitchen before I'd really awakened. We headed out, Jake and Chris and I, in the middle of one of the worst thunderstorms I've ever driven through. Brian and Suzan's road more closely resembled a moat, and getting to I-20 represented a difficult tightrope balance of caution and insanity.