Okay, everyone else has finally left, so I’m going to write a quick entry before heading home myself.

I’m back in the Upper Valley after being in Seattle for a week. Seattle was great, full of interesting things, and the weather couldn’t have been better (this all ties into the “visitor curse:” When visiting Seattle, the weather is idyllic and beautiful. When you actually move there, it becomes cold and rainy all the time). As I’ve commented already, we were out apartment hunting, and have managed to find a pretty decent place out in Bellevue, right near access to both I-405 and 520, giving us two of the major arteries for the city. We are still in the screening process for the apartment, but we’re sure that it’ll be fine: despite my being a full time student and Mickey being a freelancer, we do have a pretty rock solid application. The real question will be whether we qualify for the two bedroom or the three bedroom (we’re hoping for the three, so we can have separate offices instead of sharing one).

I was pretty happy to be going home, but I don’t really feel “home” yet. I think it is partially because my mind is already starting to make the connection that we’re moving elsewhere, but it is still pretty strange. I mean, Vermont has ALWAYS been home. To a certain extent it always will be. It just feels a bit more foreign at the moment, while at the same time very familiar.

The trip home is worth mentioning on a few fronts. First off: MCI (Kansas City International Airport) SUCKS. That airport is by far the most poorly organized piece of trash I’ve ever been to. To elaborate: at most airports, you go through security ONCE. You are then in the boarding area, and you get on your plane. If you connect to another plane, then you remain in the boarding area, and just switch gates. At Kansas City, that isn’t an option. You EXIT the boarding area, and trudge down the hot, stuffy hall to ANOTHER boarding area, and go through security AGAIN. This is not even beginning to mention the level of competence found in the screeners there. Mickey had to sit and wait for 15 minutes while they checked her bag (one that had passed through several other checkpoints perfectly fine at other airports on the trip). They pulled it aside for a bag check, but didn’t bother telling Mickey, nor telling one of the bag checkers that wasn’t doing anything to come get it (or at least that it was there). The bag checker then pulled it aside, when through it, separated out the contents of the bag, and ran them through individually. This is the most cockamamie piece of tripe I’ve seen to date. It serves no purpose other than to aggravate, failing even to create an ILLUSION of safety.

The other item worth mentioning about the trip is far cooler and less aggravating. Once we boarded the flight in Kansas City, we took off and were informed by the pilot that there was a front ahead, and that we would be climbing above it for to avoid most of the turbulence. As we climbed to 39,000 feet, the sun began to set behind the horizon, creating a glorious gradient of purples and reds and oranges. This setting light also illuminated in the distance a sculpted cloud, a thunderhead that looked more like the prow of a cloudship than anything else, it was so crisp and solid. That edge spread out before the plane, turning this fantastic storm grey, filled with nearly constant flashes of light. It was absolutely glorious.