I’m reporting live from suburban Atlanta, where I’m rethinking my earlier claim that nothing is colder than San Francisco weather. It’s 18 degrees right now. They’re predicting a high of 28 degrees tomorrow. I mean sure, the “snow and freezing rain” effect on the Apple Dashboard weather gadget is pretty cool, but eighteen degrees. I’ve gotta smoke in this weather.
Other than that, it’s nice to be home. I was feeling all morose before I flew out, but it seems like things are going to be okay. I had a three-hour delay at the airport yesterday, and I spent the time wandering around hearing news reports of torture and seeing three couples crying in absolute misery, presumably over having to separate. And I was reading the in-flight magazine with articles about Atlanta and feeling like a man without a country — I still don’t know San Francisco all that well, and reading the article made me realize I don’t even recognize Atlanta anymore. At the time, it all seemed monumentally depressing, but now it just seems normal.
It’s nostalgic here, too. In that I’m remembering the years using my Commodore 64 with its 300-bps Vicmodem. The wireless connection here is slooooow. I considered getting them a faster wireless router as a gift, but that’s selfish even by my standards. Could be a not-entirely-bad thing, though: I’ve been realizing that I don’t really know where all my wasted time goes, but I suspect that most of it’s due to the internets. I didn’t get much written on the plane, but maybe the rest of this week? I see Seppopodopolous has already gone over the mark — congrats to him!
And oh, hi! Disneyland was cool. I’m not posting any pictures since I could type more than a thousand words in the time it’d take me to upload them over this connection. It’s all a blur of beef and people and Christmas decorations and “Steve Holt!” at the moment, but I remember having a good time.