We managed to score first class seats to Atlanta. Or is it business class? I really don’t remember the difference. We got to sit in the fancy leather seats up front with free drinks. We slept most of the way, having gotten up early for the drive to Denver. There are flights from COS-ATL, but they always seem pretty full. After futilely arguing with the guy at the Thrifty counter because I did not consider a fuel-inefficient Chrysler PT Cruiser to be an “upgrade” from whatever little bitty econo box we’d reserved. You’d think I’d remember where courtesy shuttles from…
I don’t really want to be good reads friends with you. But I can’t seem to work a stupid web form, and clicked the wrong box. So, I’m sorry to the few hundred people who needless got a goodreads invite to me, and I’ll never give an email password to a 3rd party site again.
Some people are taking this geohasing thing way seriously. If I weren’t going to Highlands, NC tomorrow, I think I would join these crazies. I may do it some other day. This seems as good a way to meet people I might like as anyway. Course, I’m totally no actually in the Denver graticules, but since my area is also split into 4, it’s also pretty confusing. Just going to theirs (if they pick one for any given day) seems swell. And I have a shirt to wear! I totally think I’ll do it next weekend
I really thought I had. But I can’t find it. I was in this bar in St. Louis, a real hole in the wall late at night. This fellow with a beer gut, a beard, and a lazy eye saunters up to me and exclaims that he loves my shirt. “No one understands science anymore, no one! Just look at the world trade center…” and he launched into a diatribe about the melting point of steel and the ignition point of jet fuel. Rather than pointing out that no one ever claimed that the steel in the world trade center…
I just talked Wifey into picking up a Louie’s pizza and beer. I used to make a pizza every Friday night. Now I have Wifey pick it up. Despite all the raves about my pizza, it tastes better when someone else makes it. Other folks don’t tend to make potato pizza though. I’ve considered resurrecting Friday pizza’s after acquiring (thanks, Mom!) the best book on pizza ever, but it hasn’t happened yet. I wonder if I’ll be happy with my pizza by the time I’m 90. Not that I’ll live that long. So we’re headed to Highlands, NC tomorrow. I…