(no subject)

So I am safely at home, where the refridgerator is stocked with fresh produce, the comforters are plush, the fog is everywhere, and there are two new Umberto Ecco novels on Linda's bookself and a Sunday New York Times. On the other hand, as Dad and I were waiting for an elevator last night in the San Francisco Airport parking facility, a group of burly green and black parka-ed black men walked into the parking lot and then yelled "scatter". Dad and I decided to get to the second level using stairs, but I guess the point is that very rarely am I placed in a situation where I think there's the threat of gun play in Northfield.

There have been some changes in the landscape of the home as there tend to be when you leave for eight months, most notably the fact that an ergonomics expert visited Dad and Linda's offices and now their computers are placed so that the bottom of the screen is at their head level. Read: I'm bending my head back now. It's a little strange.