Ran into George Washington on Saturday. He was chillin' at Longwood Gardens for the weekend, chatting with visitors, enjoying the sunshine. Mr. Washington gets around--saw him at the Hale-Byrnes house at Christmastime, too. I guess that's what I'd do if I were George--cruise around to the various wonderful places, chat with the nice people, keep my name out there.
Today, the University of Delaware is not honoring George, however. They're in session. Which means Superman is at the office and at class, and I am working, too. Probably good--I should be working--and I did sneak in a nap after swimming--but I do find myself just slightly nostalgic for Egan's Winter Break. Supermom and Superdad are in Santa Monica, visiting Superbro (have fun at the Farmer's Market, guys!) on their week off.
We spent Saturday enjoying the sight of Longwood in the snow and petting the cats who keep the gardens mouse-free (they have cozy condos and are well-fed and cared for by Longwood's wonderful staff). We went winetasting at Chaddsford Winery and learned about East Coast wines. Sunday was spent in Historic New Castle, site of William Penn's arrival and home to the first signer of the Declaration of Independence. For a half million, you can own one of the oldest homes in town, a gorgeous large brick dwelling with a cute yard on a lovely historic street. I'd live there in a minute! We visited the old graveyards in town and the Courthouse and saw the historic Amstel and Dutch houses. New Castle's right on the Delaware River, so we wandered down to Battery Park on the banks of the river. We can't wait to go back when the weather's nicer.
Today, it's sunny and much warmer, which means the ice will finally melt off the sidewalks and I can run again without fearing a tumble. Spring is coming...blossoms, flowers...can't wait.
Happy President's Day!
Monday, February 19, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Happy Valentine's Day, After All
Late Morning: After having three flights canceled, Supergirl camps out with computer and wireless to blog out her misery. Post-post (and kind emails and calls from friends), she meets a cutie-pie two year old and the little girl's mom. Gets to play My Little Pony, see the brand-new Valentine Barbie, and finally has an audience for the Poppy the Cat slideshow. Superman, bless his heart, sends Poppy the Cat movie clips to make Supergirl/Cat mom happier. Confusion about 1:50 P.M. flight being cancelled or not. Gets on 4:30 flight that gate crew is more certain will leave.
Lunchtime: Supergirl enjoys lunch and purchases clean socks, gum, and elastics/clips for her wayward tresses. Wonderful friends BostonErin and Melissa provide Chicago friends' contact info, should Supergirl need a place to camp other than Midway Airport. Supergirl continues to worry about flight cancellations and once again considers flying elsewhere, for the heck of it. Boston? Back to San Jose? Vegas?
After lunch: Supergirl deals with Problem Hair and shares misery with anyone who will listen. Strolls airport for fun. Discovers, via one of the women with whom she has shared her misery, who is much more well-rested and lucid, that 1:50 flight is leaving soon. Goes to check on it. Gets back on flight, miraculously, and is the LAST PERSON ON THE PLANE!
8:00 P.M.: After landing on ice in Philly, waiting for bags that did not show, and filling out baggage delivery form, Supergirl and Superman, her trusty chauffeur, drive home to Newark. The trees are covered with ice and look like they're painted silver in the light. Supergirl has never been so happy to be home.
9:30 P.M.: Leftovers for dinner, a great bottle of wine, chocolate-covered blueberries sent by SuperAunt, SuperUnCole, and Supercute Cousin, and the company of husband and cat...there is no better Valentine's Birthday!
Sending LOVE your way!
Lunchtime: Supergirl enjoys lunch and purchases clean socks, gum, and elastics/clips for her wayward tresses. Wonderful friends BostonErin and Melissa provide Chicago friends' contact info, should Supergirl need a place to camp other than Midway Airport. Supergirl continues to worry about flight cancellations and once again considers flying elsewhere, for the heck of it. Boston? Back to San Jose? Vegas?
After lunch: Supergirl deals with Problem Hair and shares misery with anyone who will listen. Strolls airport for fun. Discovers, via one of the women with whom she has shared her misery, who is much more well-rested and lucid, that 1:50 flight is leaving soon. Goes to check on it. Gets back on flight, miraculously, and is the LAST PERSON ON THE PLANE!
8:00 P.M.: After landing on ice in Philly, waiting for bags that did not show, and filling out baggage delivery form, Supergirl and Superman, her trusty chauffeur, drive home to Newark. The trees are covered with ice and look like they're painted silver in the light. Supergirl has never been so happy to be home.
9:30 P.M.: Leftovers for dinner, a great bottle of wine, chocolate-covered blueberries sent by SuperAunt, SuperUnCole, and Supercute Cousin, and the company of husband and cat...there is no better Valentine's Birthday!
Sending LOVE your way!
It's My Birthday, And I'll Cry If I Want To
Some advice: When you check your bag for a flight, and the woman who takes it from you tells you there's a Weather Advisory where you're going, don't go.
I am 32 today, and I am spending my birthday in the Midway Airport. There are far worse places to be stuck, and worse circumstances under which to be stuck; however, it being my birthday, I am a little bummed out.
I left for San Jose Airport on Tuesday, 2/13, at 7:30 A.M., with Superdad at the wheel, listening to the Dixie Chicks, excited for my birthday and to see Matt and Poppy. I knew there was a storm coming to the Philly area, and I knew it'd be bad, due to what Syracuse, NY has gotten recently, but I truly didn't think it would affect me this much. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. If I'd bailed on my flight, I'd be celebrating my b-day with Mom and Dad right now. Ah, well.
After circling Midway, my connecting airport, for several hours yesterday afternoon, we were diverted to St. Louis, where we spent three hours, before getting back on the plane at 9:30 P.M., flying to Midway, circling for several more hours, and landing. There were no more flights to Philly, so I booked one for the next morning (today). My luggage is somewhere, I hope. I can't get to it, that's for sure. All the airport hotels were full last night, so I slept on a cot (thank god for that!), cocooned in a blanket (hoorah!), with a bunch of other people.
In case you are wondering, they clean the escalators, wax the floors, and tidy the bathrooms in airports in the middle of the night. Fleets of good souls, who probably work two other jobs each, spend their nights making airports pleasant for travelers. I am impressed.
Also, the Muzak does play 'round the clock. I feel like there may have been a reprieve from 2:00 A.M.-4:00 A.M., but that might have been because I finally fell asleep.
At 4:30 A.M., a fellow hollered, "O.K., everybody, it's 4:30 A.M.; we have to pack up the cots, so everybody needs to get up! We have drinks for you; come help yourselves!" I was dismayed not to have Revelry played for me, as the circumstances were so camp-like, but I hopped up and got on my way to nowhere. I will also admit to the sarcastic thought, Whom are you kidding? No one's going anywhere today. Leave 'em up. But I do not get involved in airport administrivia. Bigger fish to fry, and all that.
There's something odd about being desparate for sleep in the middle of the night. Everyone just sort of fell on cots and crashed out. Boundaries were erased, so desperate were we for a place to lie down and get some rest. It truly was quiet there for about two hours in the wee hours of the morning. However, my crack-of-dawn wake-up was less comfortable. I felt exposed. Had I drooled on my cot? Was my hair standing up in twenty different directions? Did I have sleep marks on my cheek? Did I smell? (The hair looks marginal, and the answers to the other three questions are yes, yes, and probably).
When it became clear that my 6:00 A.M. flight was not happening, I re-booked, then re-booked again. I am now re-booked on a 1:50 P.M. flight to Philly. I couldn't stomach standby on anything earlier; the disappointment of having yet another flight cancelled is just too much for my tired, sorry self to take right now (talk to me when it happens at noon). Instead, I am trying to make this a Rich Life Experience.
I walked a blind man to his gate, so I could learn more about training Seeing Eye dogs. Turns out that the dog socializers have the dogs for a lot longer than the trainers , who only have them for three months, do. He said that his current dog, a black lab named Todd, is a little bit too "social." His last dog, a yellow lab, was a better worker. I had to stay on Todd's left and kind of steer him, so that he, in turn, could steer Joe. I dropped Joe off at his gate and took a stroll back to mine. I just keep walking back and forth, from the A Concourse to the B Concourse.
I feel a bit like Tom Hanks' character in the DreamWorks movie The Terminal. I'm not sure how I'm going to feel when I finally get out of here. Airports and airplanes provide a liminal space, in which you make best friends with people you barely know, just to have some companionship on your journey. As I walk through the airport today, folks I met last night ask, "How'd you sleep?" It's like being in small-town America with folks from all over the country. Last night, I met a soldier who did two terms in Iraq. What an impressive person he was. I gave someone my New York Times this morning; someone gave me OK and Life & Style last night. If someone needed me to buy them breakfast, I probably would, although not a fellow passenger I'll call Negative Ned. He's harshing my mellow; I feel like he's tracking me. Every time I'm at a gate trying to change my flight, he appears at my elbow to whine and complain. I got an earful about how his girlfriend is pissed he's not home for Valentine's Day, and how she can't handle the amount of traveling he does for work; apparently he almost told her to find another boyfriend last week. I don't do other people's bad relationships, so I keep trying to lose him. I'll be "working" a lot today. Earlier, I lied and told him I was leaving the airport and flying out tomorrow, just to get him off my back. I almost did it, too, until Matt reminded me that no hotels (if there are even any vacancies) will let me check in until late afternoon. I think I can handle one more night in the airport, but I'm not positive about that.
I pondered returning to San Jose, but I can't stand the thought of having to fly from there to Chicago again this week. I thought about going to L.A. Same problem.
So here I sit, in Midway Airport, grateful for technology, Southwest Airlines' Valentine decorations, and my friends and family wishing me Happy Birthday from across the miles. Matt informed me that the local news station in Delaware had some footage of a young woman crying about missing Valentine's Day. I said, "If she'd had her birthday on Valentine's Day her whole life, then she'd have learned how to suck it up by now!" And so I shall.
Happy Valentine's Day, one and all. Enjoy it for me!
I am 32 today, and I am spending my birthday in the Midway Airport. There are far worse places to be stuck, and worse circumstances under which to be stuck; however, it being my birthday, I am a little bummed out.
I left for San Jose Airport on Tuesday, 2/13, at 7:30 A.M., with Superdad at the wheel, listening to the Dixie Chicks, excited for my birthday and to see Matt and Poppy. I knew there was a storm coming to the Philly area, and I knew it'd be bad, due to what Syracuse, NY has gotten recently, but I truly didn't think it would affect me this much. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. If I'd bailed on my flight, I'd be celebrating my b-day with Mom and Dad right now. Ah, well.
After circling Midway, my connecting airport, for several hours yesterday afternoon, we were diverted to St. Louis, where we spent three hours, before getting back on the plane at 9:30 P.M., flying to Midway, circling for several more hours, and landing. There were no more flights to Philly, so I booked one for the next morning (today). My luggage is somewhere, I hope. I can't get to it, that's for sure. All the airport hotels were full last night, so I slept on a cot (thank god for that!), cocooned in a blanket (hoorah!), with a bunch of other people.
In case you are wondering, they clean the escalators, wax the floors, and tidy the bathrooms in airports in the middle of the night. Fleets of good souls, who probably work two other jobs each, spend their nights making airports pleasant for travelers. I am impressed.
Also, the Muzak does play 'round the clock. I feel like there may have been a reprieve from 2:00 A.M.-4:00 A.M., but that might have been because I finally fell asleep.
At 4:30 A.M., a fellow hollered, "O.K., everybody, it's 4:30 A.M.; we have to pack up the cots, so everybody needs to get up! We have drinks for you; come help yourselves!" I was dismayed not to have Revelry played for me, as the circumstances were so camp-like, but I hopped up and got on my way to nowhere. I will also admit to the sarcastic thought, Whom are you kidding? No one's going anywhere today. Leave 'em up. But I do not get involved in airport administrivia. Bigger fish to fry, and all that.
There's something odd about being desparate for sleep in the middle of the night. Everyone just sort of fell on cots and crashed out. Boundaries were erased, so desperate were we for a place to lie down and get some rest. It truly was quiet there for about two hours in the wee hours of the morning. However, my crack-of-dawn wake-up was less comfortable. I felt exposed. Had I drooled on my cot? Was my hair standing up in twenty different directions? Did I have sleep marks on my cheek? Did I smell? (The hair looks marginal, and the answers to the other three questions are yes, yes, and probably).
When it became clear that my 6:00 A.M. flight was not happening, I re-booked, then re-booked again. I am now re-booked on a 1:50 P.M. flight to Philly. I couldn't stomach standby on anything earlier; the disappointment of having yet another flight cancelled is just too much for my tired, sorry self to take right now (talk to me when it happens at noon). Instead, I am trying to make this a Rich Life Experience.
I walked a blind man to his gate, so I could learn more about training Seeing Eye dogs. Turns out that the dog socializers have the dogs for a lot longer than the trainers , who only have them for three months, do. He said that his current dog, a black lab named Todd, is a little bit too "social." His last dog, a yellow lab, was a better worker. I had to stay on Todd's left and kind of steer him, so that he, in turn, could steer Joe. I dropped Joe off at his gate and took a stroll back to mine. I just keep walking back and forth, from the A Concourse to the B Concourse.
I feel a bit like Tom Hanks' character in the DreamWorks movie The Terminal. I'm not sure how I'm going to feel when I finally get out of here. Airports and airplanes provide a liminal space, in which you make best friends with people you barely know, just to have some companionship on your journey. As I walk through the airport today, folks I met last night ask, "How'd you sleep?" It's like being in small-town America with folks from all over the country. Last night, I met a soldier who did two terms in Iraq. What an impressive person he was. I gave someone my New York Times this morning; someone gave me OK and Life & Style last night. If someone needed me to buy them breakfast, I probably would, although not a fellow passenger I'll call Negative Ned. He's harshing my mellow; I feel like he's tracking me. Every time I'm at a gate trying to change my flight, he appears at my elbow to whine and complain. I got an earful about how his girlfriend is pissed he's not home for Valentine's Day, and how she can't handle the amount of traveling he does for work; apparently he almost told her to find another boyfriend last week. I don't do other people's bad relationships, so I keep trying to lose him. I'll be "working" a lot today. Earlier, I lied and told him I was leaving the airport and flying out tomorrow, just to get him off my back. I almost did it, too, until Matt reminded me that no hotels (if there are even any vacancies) will let me check in until late afternoon. I think I can handle one more night in the airport, but I'm not positive about that.
I pondered returning to San Jose, but I can't stand the thought of having to fly from there to Chicago again this week. I thought about going to L.A. Same problem.
So here I sit, in Midway Airport, grateful for technology, Southwest Airlines' Valentine decorations, and my friends and family wishing me Happy Birthday from across the miles. Matt informed me that the local news station in Delaware had some footage of a young woman crying about missing Valentine's Day. I said, "If she'd had her birthday on Valentine's Day her whole life, then she'd have learned how to suck it up by now!" And so I shall.
Happy Valentine's Day, one and all. Enjoy it for me!
Monday, February 05, 2007
Winter in DE
Winter is here. The snow isn't sticking much, but we've had some, and my office window is icy. Morning swimming is tough when it's freezing with wind chill, but that's what down coats are for! We ran on snowy trails up at White Clay Creek State Park on Saturday and drove up to Lancaster County on Sunday, where we saw many Amish buggies making their way around--a picturesque tableau against the snowy hills of farm country.
Longwood Gardens is readying itself for spring, with tulips and narcissus already blooming inside the conservatory. Our house is ready for spring visitors, with a newly painted upstairs. Poppy will share "her room" with those who make their way to see us!
I thoroughly enjoyed my class, and turned in what I hope is a stellar nine-page paper. I got an A on the first test and am hoping for similar results on my final! I think I'm a more nervous test-taker than I was before I became a teacher. I know too much, now. Like, the person who writes the exam knows the material backwards and forwards, and you have to erase your Scan-Tron sheet really carefully. I am happy to confirm that I can still write a strong academic paper, but it requires solid research, a lot of thought, and a great deal of drafting. One of the undergraduates in my class was boasting to his friend that he'd just knock off the final paper the night before it was due, and I thought to myself, "Honey, that's why I'm getting an A, and you're NOT."
This spring's class has no tests or papers, as I'm only taking it for one credit, so it should be more laid-back than my daily winter term class with several assignments to complete in a five-week period, while also being busier with work than I have been since I started the business. It was a good problem to have, but I'm happy to be at a more manageable pace now!
There's a cupcakery opening on Main Street soon. I'm delighted! Other than that, check out The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova and Leap Days by Katherine Lanpher for excellent reading, and The Soundtrack of Our Lives, Sun Kil Moon, and Silversun Pickups for excellent music.
Happy February!
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