Some Days in the Life - August 1, 1999
But I'm ahead of my story -- I should be talking about yesterday, to my knowledge.
Well, we went North, Young Man! North, to Syracuse, on I-81, through Cortland.
I-81 I feel affectionate towards -- my parents used to live here, and my father helped to build Interstate 81. This would have been roughly thirty-five years ago, as my sister Kristen was born during this time, in Cortland. Which mostly seems to be strip malls and cows today, but I'm not sure what that says about my sister.
However, as part of the never-ending quest of this trip to put me in detours, I-81 in Syracuse was torn to little itty bitty shreds. Which wasn't a big deal of course, because I'd gotten directions from John.
Which, I would add, were perfectly happy sitting in the hotel room, a good hour's drive away. Of course, they did me no good in Syracuse itself.
But, I was feeling good despite this. We had gotten food at an A&W. A good old fashioned Drive-Up A&W, with root beer on draft and burgers and fries and sitting in your car and speaking to a speaker under a menu, and girls in shorts and halter tops bring it out. That had me in a good mood, and Russ isn't the sort to get upset just because we haven't any idea where we're going. Russ is the sort to appreciate being lost for its own sake.
Needless to say, one Fastmap later, we made it to John's place.
John's doing well. He's got a good job, a nice home, tons of books, a good wife and a daughter who, without a doubt, is adorable. It's easy to get jealous of John, except they're all so laid back (including the baby Molly, who even cried politely). John's just good people.
He and Russ cottoned to one another quickly. When we went out for dinner and shopping (out at the Carousel Center -- "We're Bloody Well Huge!"), the two got talking technical details that left me in the dust. I swear, it was like listening to a couple of modems negotiating a handshake.
Lisa is lovely and clearly an excellent mother, to cats and daughter alike. It was a generally good visit.
Oh, I bought shorts, too. I didn't have any with me because I'm dumb, so I got a new pair, which would go well with my sneakers. Which brings me to the weather.
It was hot. I mean, scorchingly hot. Way too bloody hot. Hot as hot can be. It's the Superheated Express. Mister big heat. As they say, a mite warm.
It didn't incline me to go to the Renn Fest, as it was either going to be hot or raining -- and it reached the point of rain that night as well. (I stood in the rain and felt the wind blast me while filling the gas tank. I love rain.) John and I talked about that -- he's an old Renny like I am, and like me he's kind of over it. It was fun while we did it, but now we don't really do that any more. And he's right. I'm sort of out of the Renn Fest in general. I went for a weekend last year -- dressed up and the whole shtick. And you know? It wasn't the same. Perhaps because I wasn't twenty-two to go with it. I dunno.
John gave me a fifth of Glenlivet as a very belated Birthday present. Nothing says love and friendship like decent scotch. Glenlivet's not my favorite, but it's plenty fine despite being known as a good scotch. Being well known as a good scotch is usually the kiss of death, as Mr. Johnnie Walker learned to his chagrin.
A journal link's been taken off my front page (whenever I update this). Last night, well after three when we got in, I checked my mail and pinged a few journals, and I discovered that Dirk's journal was now configured to return a very funny error message when you're using Internet Explorer. (Bad Browser error.) John, during the day, had mentioned that it gives the same error when using any browser and Windows 95. When I used Netscape, I could read it just fine.
However, I loathe Netscape on the Mac. I won't use it. I have it on my Powerbook merely for testing purposes. And I'm not going to use it merely to check if Dirk, who posts about as often as I yodel, has updated his entry. In part because while it makes an admittedly funny and valid point about Windows and Explorer, it's missing an equal point about the World Wide Web. A point that all the default font sets and CSSes sometimes miss as well (and I realize I use font sets with this) -- namely, the person reading the Web page decides his own decisions, like browser and default font and the like. I have a friend who uses 18 point Helvetica as his default font. I wouldn't, but I'm not him. I don't ask him to view his pages like I view mine.
So, while I got a good laugh out of the message, I'm dropping the journal from the ones I read (and therefore recommend). And I'm sure Dirk's not going to be heartbroken over that.
|
|
|
|