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February 11, 1999
a year ago

Tired

I dunno if anyone heard about the storm in Denver that nearly shut down the airport, but there was wind driven snow that was going nigh on horizontal as we drove towards the airport. There were entire sections of the road that were on the near edge of being completely whited out. The wind was so strong it was pushing on the car. When we got into the terminal, about half the ticket counters were just flat out closed. Luckily for us, Frontier is based in DIA and their pilots and planes are built for the inclement weather and trained for it as well.

Too bad the pushers weren't quite as well built. There were moments when they had two pushers on the plane, trying to push it back from the terminal. The pushers had chains on the tires and still couldn't find the traction to get the plane back. Finally, they had a snow plow pusher normally used for the 747's come and shove us back. The pad where they de-iced us was a fantastic mesh of lights and liquid sprays in the darkness. The lights outside were so bright they lit the inside of the cabin. A few of the passengers had celphones and found out, as we were sitting there, that a few of the major roads into DIA had closed while we waited. So we'd been one of the last ones to make it out to the airport. All in all, with all the delays and everything, we were nearly two hours late out of the airport.

This morning, we got into the SeaTac airport at 2 a.m.. I had a blood draw that had to be done immediately, so we drove through empty freeways to the University District and went to the huge, empty hospital, and walked all the way through it to the evening blood draw area to find somewhat astonished blood techs. They don't see many folks at way too early in the morning.

The tech that was sent to do the draw was very nice, tall, blond, with really long hair, and he reminded me of some sort of stereotype, slender, soft voiced, with glasses and long, slender hands that were gentle, entirely precise, and warm on my veins. Very first try, he was in the vein, and the draw was quick and relatively painless. The needle was much skinnier than the ones used for donation. It was funny, but the two of us, at the end of the draw got conversational wires crossed a little, as he was saying stuff about how after enough draws you get good at it, and when I said, yeah, you can feel when it goes in right he nodded, "Yeah, funny as it may seem, you can feel the density changes and what going into the vein feels like."

What's funny about that is that, since I used the second person, he turned it into a first for him, when it was actually part of my experience.

The ride home was through abandoned streets. We dropped, exhausted into our beds and slept after letting Fezzik into the house and feeding him. He was uncharacteristically quiet, though I suspect he was asleep when we arrived. He was fluffy, damp, and clean, though, as the boarding place had washed him, and he was very happy to see us.

We had to get up sometime in the morning because carpetters were coming to the house and we had to get out of their way. That was painful. Work was okay, but unfocussed, and I had another blood test that afternoon, and then we got to go home. Intelligently, we bought our dinner from Frankie's. I was just *so* not up to cooking it wasn't even funny. There were two rooms that had been completely recarpetted, and the carpet was torn up everywhere else downstairs. We also got the bagful of mail from the neighbors and in it was my Waterman pen!!

Hoorah!

I danced about in the car and then again in the kitchen when we found out that I'd gotten it from Vinage Pens. And I immediately tried it out as John sorted out a bunch of other things. It's lovely, flexible, interesting, and absolutely nothing to look at. It just looks like a black plastic pen, kinda short, even, with faded chrome trim and such. But the nib is 14k gold and flexible and lovely. The way the feed was made, it's very close to a dip pen, and is nearly as expressive as one without the ink flick or the need to dip it, and I found it remarkably responsive to what pressure I put on it. That was really, really cool.

Pendemonium also lived up to their tremendous service and got me more nibs and a bottle of ink as well as some of their really fine, French stationary before I'd even gotten back. I was very, very impressed with them, and may go for some really big purchases with them in a week or so. They've been tremendous.

On the bad side of web shopping and mail ordering is that OohLaLa Bath Fizzies never, ever got me the bath bombs I ordered from them. I'm getting really tired of waiting for them. It's been over a month and I'm starting to worry that they're doing something nefarious with my credit card. Or else they're just being stupid. I've sent them two emails, and they answered the first by saying they were sending them, but that was more than two weeks ago, now. I'm about ready to write their provider and get really mad.

Anyway, I made a list, kept adding to it, and packed all the stuff I thought I needed for the Con. John and I moved some stuff from the bedroom floor back into the closet. The house really looks like a whirlwind hit it and sucked everything out and replaced furniture in random areas. Between the painters and the carpetting, none of the furniture downstairs is where it was, and all my books and everything were stuck into boxes and stacked on various tile floors.

We went to sleep with my list next to my night stand and the Waterman pen standing, upright, in my drawer, ready for thoughts in the middle of the night so that I could write them down, be rid of them, and sleep without being bothered by them all night.

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