I’m Back

For anyone who's wondering, Houston hasn't changed a bit. Okay, a bunch of businesses on the west side of south Hwy 6 between I-10 and Westheimer are now empty shells sprouting weeds and "for sale, lease, free to a good home" signs. And the weeds thrusting up through the dirt of the Resurfacing Project from Hell on the 610 loop near Richmond resemble tall corn, they're so dang healthy. I think I saw a live oak coming up near one rusting bulldozer.

I shared a room with a co-worker from the UK. She likes to watch TV. A lot. The first couple of days, I endured Morning TeeVee for the length of time it took her to realize that not even CNN would deliver news from London without the whole city catching fire, and she settled for watching that portion of Fellowship of the Ring that aired between the time we awoke (5:30) and the time we went downstairs to catch the shuttle (6:45).

I made us coffee while Elrond convened the council at Rivendell. Somewhere around Playtime on Kharadhras, I took my shower, emerging generally during Gimli's jog over to Balin's Tomb. When the Balrog bit it, taking Gandalf with him, we gathered our things together, switching off just as the bereft heroes entered Lothlorien.

At least once we switched shower times, to add that touch of variety so necessary to continued sanity.

On Thursday, we returned late-ish to the hotel, and I ordered a pizza. Co-worker was tired and promptly went to sleep, but FotR was on and I thought I'd try to see it through to the end, just to break the cycle. Coincidently, when we turned the TV on, there was the Council in Rivendell. Hm. My pizza arrived. About the time I finished, the Company was entering Lothlorien and I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.

So much for that plan, but Co-worker vowed that Friday night, come hell or high water, we'd both sit up for the duration. So back in our hotel room, me packed for an early morning flight home, she flicked on the TV and started round the channels. No FotR. Back through them again, and again. All we could find was a sucky Travolta soft-focus movie. It dawned on us that the cable movie channels tend to switch their week's mix every Friday.

My return flight featured a plane change in Seattle, so the last hour was spent following the coast north. The evidence of the recent flooding is quite impressive from the air. Most of the rivers are well spread out from their usual banks, forming deltas and new channels in places. Raw umber churns from their mouths far out from shore.

The airline did not lose my duffel bag, and Customs & Immigration let me back into the country yet again. Yesterday we took a long walk through Stanley Park, gently fending off the six or so ladybugs that kept landing on our shoulders. A woman walking a cat insisted this was a sign of imminent good fortune.

It's wonderful to be back home.