Home again, Home again, jiggety blog...

American Airlines carries Dr Pepper. I <3 American Airlines.

Gorgeous sights and yummy food were had in Vancouver this week. I took a friend's advice and sat by the window on my outbound flight. The view was breathtaking. The coast is geologically similar to Northern California, Oregon, and Washington. It seems to be just a little more convoluted in the coastline, but I could be wrong. There were lots of little islands and gorgeous mountains that knelt right down into the water. The wave patterns made by the wind and the boats were shown to best effect by the afternoon sunlight that turned the whole of the Pacific Ocean into a shattered golden mirror.

I had the whole of Row 12 to myself on that flight, so after I had seen all the sights and we passed Mt. Hood and Mt. St. Helen's, I turned my attention to the very serious matter of solving the newspaper Sudoku. Alas, I got to the last square and discovered that I'd made a logical error somewhere else in the puzzle and couldn't solve it out correctly. This is where a computerized version of the game, with an "Undo" button that could step me backwards through my solution would have been useful. Rather than trying to unravel the puzzle and fix it, which my eraser was not large enough to undertake, I picked up the American Airlines magazine and set to solving their Sudoku. I laid out across all three seats in my row and had a nap, and then I tussled with the Sudoku a bit more. A direct flight, warm sunlight on my feet, and Dr Pepper to top it all off. I was in heaven.

I wonder if there are any good song lyrics about Vancouver?

So the Convention Center in Vancouver has a roof reminiscent of the one at the Denver airport. It's one of those masted ceilings with canvas strung between the masts and from the underside it's all swooping wires that maintain the tension of the canvas, keeping the thing watertight. Apparently it rains a lot here. I've seen nothing but sunny skies, but there was a complimentary loaner umbrella in the closet of my room. I'll take it as proof that they DO rather frequently have call to lend them out. As it is, I travel with a compact umbrella in my laptop bag because... well... you can't look professional giving a demonstration or standing in front of a class if your pants are dripping rain onto the floor.

Another feature of my hotel, which I have to say I adore at this point, is found with the in-room the coffee service. Ordinarily, there is nothing remarkable to say about it. Ordinarily, one gets a basket of junk alongside the in-room coffee maker and part of the junk is the packets of powdered non-dairy creamer that I secretly believe were the mysterious white substance found in John Cornyn's office this morning. Really, it's virtually indistinguishable from anthrax spores and it tastes bad, but not quite as bad as bad coffee does. So I use the stuff, though I loathe it with the loathing of a thousand thousand dogs loathing a thousand thousand thousand escape-artist cats. At this place, they provide LIQUID creamer. In those clever little plastic tubs with the peel-off foil lids, just like you would get in a diner. And really, since I don't want a uniformed roomservice attendant disturbing my slumber to bring me fresh cold creamer in an insulated pitcher every morning, nor do I want to pay the $5 they would charge for the one mug of coffee they would bring me, I can hang with the plastic tubs just fine. Really, room service prices make Starbucks start to look economical.

Speaking of... I've gotta get my things packed and into my car. There is a Tim Horton's on the walk to the Convention Center from my hotel, and I am bound to go. I need some timbits and a tall double-double. And maybe a Maple-Glazed while I'm at it. Road food is bad for you... But it tastes good!

Just when I start to feel like a grown-up...

So I'm in Vancouver this week. Not the whole week, thankfully, but Tuesday-Thursday, which might as well be the whole week. I managed to get my stuff moved out of my apartment this weekend, with the invaluable assistance of my delightful girlfriend. I would have been overwhelmed and then collapsed in a heap of frustration several times (especially toward the end) had it not been for her steady help and encouragement. As it was, we managed to finish all the crucial packing well beforetime on Friday, so we got one long, last, luxurious soak in my garden tub before i had to turn in the keys. We got a decent night's sleep and were reasonably chipper when the movers arrived to carry all the things from Point A to Point B. Then, we wrapped up the move in time to get a shower and a nap before going to her parents' house to celebrate Rosh Hashanah. Happy New Year! I had never eaten Jewish "home cooking" before. For that matter, aside from the occasional kosher dill or lox on a bagel, I'm not sure I've ever eaten any sort of Jewish cooking before. It was a fantastic new experience and let me tell you - homemade Jewish cous-cous ROCKS. The hizzouse.

Monday, I went to the city dump and disposed of my dead washing machine which had left a bit of water-stain on the floor of my laundry room because it had decided at some point that leaking water was preferable to conveying it all into the wash basket. At least the leak was at the upstream end, so it wasn't leaking dirty laundry water on the floor. So, I was feeling all fabulous and mature and productive because I'd gotten all the move stuff done and finished the last cleanup details at the apartment and turned in the keys... I even remembered to wipe out the inside of the fridge! Tuesday, I had to pack for Vancouver, and this is where the trouble began.

For reasons unknown to me, I ended up spending lots of time Tuesday morning doing laundry, checking e-mail, catching up on blogs, preparing for demos I'd be giving at the conference and NOT PACKING. So when I got hungry, I looked at the clock to see if I could justify a lunch break, and realized that I had just one hour to get myself totally ready. This included FINDING the clothes and shoes and socks and accessories I wanted to pack, ASSEMBLING them and my toiletries all in one place, and ACTUALLY STUFFING THOSE THINGS IN A BAG. I failed miserably at the last two, and slightly at the first one.

A short list of the stuff I already know that I forgot:

• Novels for airplane entertainment
• Jacket (It's 18 here, yo!)
• Hair Stuff *
• Deodorant (I brought some, but it's so empty that I'd throw it away if I were home.)
• Phone Charger
• iPod

* The problem with forgetting my hair stuff is that, left to its own devices, my hair resembles nothing so much as a very disheveled Q-tip that has been used to clean auto parts. This, I assure you, does not coincide with even the more relaxed Professional Dress Codes. If you've been to one of those sandwich shops where the Sandwich Artists wear dreadlocks and have multiple body modfications, it's possible I could get by with my hair in a place like that, but I really think they'd make me muzzle it, even in a place that liberal. My "Hair Stuff" tames the mess and makes it lie (more or less) down against my head and unites the individual strands so they look like big curls instead of a frizzy haze. You don't even know you need to thank me for using it, so I'll tell you right now - You're Welcome.