New Year's!
Thursday night I got on a bus and went to New York City. The trip was a positive delight.
The bus ride out went smoothly; I was fortunate enough to largely sleep the whole ride. I got in early, and met gileonnen at the Port Authority when she arrived a little later, and together we trudged through a cold city, first for coffee (out of a consideration to make a delay) and then to arrive at the home of our hosts. (The new apartment is gorgeous, slightly sloped floors aside -- and, of course, the damnable tree.)
The party itself was marvelous. My ego would like to continue recalling the moment I entered the room in my tuxedo and heads turned for quite some time, thank you very much. (Note to self: do remember to tell the dry cleaners NO STARCH IN THE COLLARS next time. I know I have an allergy, damn it, and feeling that faint burn along where my collar presses against my neck is not FUN.) The food was excellent; the drinks magnificent; the company, as always, splendid. Played a fair bit of Apples to Apples, sang a few songs, and was gifted with my very own Niccolo Machiavelli finger puppet. (Jen laughed long at that: at last, Mach has a Mach. ...I always knew he had his uncle wrapped 'round his finger.)
Saturday was spent trekking down to the old Intrepid museum to show gileonnen the antiaircraft batteries and for me to drool over the newly reopened CIC and pilots' ready room. (Oh, if they'd only let me sit down in the chairs!); Saturday night saw me out for dinner and pool with an old friend and her new boyfriend. (Verdict: Nice Enough for Her. I gave him the "hurt her and I'll kill you" speech. Plays an excellent game of pool. Slow, methodical, and precise. He'll probably be good for her.)
Sunday I went to see my uncle; it was an amazingly pleasant visit -- we spoke as adults to each other, and things were very, very pleasant. The age gap is less important now, and he acknowledges I'm living my own life; amusingly enough, he came to a conclusion now that he was a workaholic then (which is what most of the family was, and why I didn't rebelled against that sort of thing as a lad and never have gone back). I left laden with gifts, and headed back to my hosts' to pick up my belongings and catch the bus.
This part should be read in an OUTRAGEOUS FRENCH ACCENT. Imagine Miss Piggy's Male Equivalent.
Ah, but my beautiful hostesses, they were so fond of the cpip, that they could not give moi up! So they hatched this INGENIOUS PLAN to keep me with them still another night! While I was away at my dear uncle's, they all snuck away to the cinema, and by the time they returned to let me in and get my bus ticket and my clothing (always, the women seek to separate me from my clothing!) it was too late, and the bus had left! So I simply had to throw myself upon their tender mercies and stay another night with them. As it was, I got to the bus station only JUST in time the next day to catch the bus home!
End the Outrageous French Accent.
I rode home on the bus. Slept a fair bit there too. The bus got in well before expected. I believe Greyhound's schedules are mucked up: there are, according to them, two buses that leave the EXACT SAME TIME and arrive in Pittsburgh at two completely DIFFERENT times, going by way of two different cities. I wound up on the "later" of the two, and still arrived only a little later than the "early" but far, far earlier than the "later" was supposed to.
And that brings us to today, with a return to work, and now home again, home again; with much to do by the weekend!
The bus ride out went smoothly; I was fortunate enough to largely sleep the whole ride. I got in early, and met gileonnen at the Port Authority when she arrived a little later, and together we trudged through a cold city, first for coffee (out of a consideration to make a delay) and then to arrive at the home of our hosts. (The new apartment is gorgeous, slightly sloped floors aside -- and, of course, the damnable tree.)
The party itself was marvelous. My ego would like to continue recalling the moment I entered the room in my tuxedo and heads turned for quite some time, thank you very much. (Note to self: do remember to tell the dry cleaners NO STARCH IN THE COLLARS next time. I know I have an allergy, damn it, and feeling that faint burn along where my collar presses against my neck is not FUN.) The food was excellent; the drinks magnificent; the company, as always, splendid. Played a fair bit of Apples to Apples, sang a few songs, and was gifted with my very own Niccolo Machiavelli finger puppet. (Jen laughed long at that: at last, Mach has a Mach. ...I always knew he had his uncle wrapped 'round his finger.)
Saturday was spent trekking down to the old Intrepid museum to show gileonnen the antiaircraft batteries and for me to drool over the newly reopened CIC and pilots' ready room. (Oh, if they'd only let me sit down in the chairs!); Saturday night saw me out for dinner and pool with an old friend and her new boyfriend. (Verdict: Nice Enough for Her. I gave him the "hurt her and I'll kill you" speech. Plays an excellent game of pool. Slow, methodical, and precise. He'll probably be good for her.)
Sunday I went to see my uncle; it was an amazingly pleasant visit -- we spoke as adults to each other, and things were very, very pleasant. The age gap is less important now, and he acknowledges I'm living my own life; amusingly enough, he came to a conclusion now that he was a workaholic then (which is what most of the family was, and why I didn't rebelled against that sort of thing as a lad and never have gone back). I left laden with gifts, and headed back to my hosts' to pick up my belongings and catch the bus.
This part should be read in an OUTRAGEOUS FRENCH ACCENT. Imagine Miss Piggy's Male Equivalent.
Ah, but my beautiful hostesses, they were so fond of the cpip, that they could not give moi up! So they hatched this INGENIOUS PLAN to keep me with them still another night! While I was away at my dear uncle's, they all snuck away to the cinema, and by the time they returned to let me in and get my bus ticket and my clothing (always, the women seek to separate me from my clothing!) it was too late, and the bus had left! So I simply had to throw myself upon their tender mercies and stay another night with them. As it was, I got to the bus station only JUST in time the next day to catch the bus home!
End the Outrageous French Accent.
I rode home on the bus. Slept a fair bit there too. The bus got in well before expected. I believe Greyhound's schedules are mucked up: there are, according to them, two buses that leave the EXACT SAME TIME and arrive in Pittsburgh at two completely DIFFERENT times, going by way of two different cities. I wound up on the "later" of the two, and still arrived only a little later than the "early" but far, far earlier than the "later" was supposed to.
And that brings us to today, with a return to work, and now home again, home again; with much to do by the weekend!