So. Today was my first day back in my office. Or would have been, had I not been locked out. First, the outer door had the combination changed. Once in the hall, I discovered that during my absence someone had shut my door. The self-locking door to which no one has a key. Not one person. Not security, not the building managers, not the key shop. While I was at lunch (what? what else was I supposed to do? Sit in the hallway, on the floor? I tried that. It annoyed me more than anyone else.) someone managed to move a ceiling tile, and drop a hook over the inside door handle.
Also high on the incompetence-in-my-life list is American Airlines, which managed to somehow send my suitcase to Chicago, while I was flying home to Florida. It arrived a mere 23 hours later than I did. My husband had to pick me up, but the suitcase got a limo to my door.

Such is life. Once I had a suitcase go to Bogota while I was on a puddle jumper to Tallahassee. The baggage handlers told me I should take my old tags off of my suitcase before traveling. I had never been further south than Jamaica, and couldn't figure that out at all. Not six months later the same airline's baggage handlers were indicted (and later convicted) of smuggling cocaine. In people's luggage. People like me, whose suitcases disappeared and then reappeared. Nothing stolen, so no report filed. Missing luggage, so went straight on through customs, not searched. Clever, but not clever enough.

I always said that my teddy bear came back from that trip with a new scar and a knowing smile.

A few seasons ago on the Sopranos, when Chris was shot and had a near-death experience he described his vision of hell to the rest of the boys. "Hell," he said, "is an Irish bar where it is always St. Patrick's Day."

Don't start sending me hate mail, but I think he's right.
Another reason to love this little town is that it is 99.99% Danish. Guess what? None of that kiss me I'm Irish for today crap. No wearin' o' the green by people who have no relationship to Ireland other than that they think Kathy was a pretty hot model in her day. No hostile glares for wearing orange. No green beer, no green bagels, or green cream cheese or green rivers. No nada. And I couldn't be happier.

And my cousin, who I have never met, but who lives just up the coast, is going to come down tomorrow after my training session ends to get together. Has this been a great trip or what?

Yellow poppies, pink azaleas, little purple Johnny jump ups. There are trees in bloom, and little white clouds, swallows diving around in the sky. My god, this is one beautiful piece of earth. The air is mild, and not too moist. Again, if it weren't for the natural and unnatural disasters and the cost of living, I'd move out here in a New York minute.
Well, that and I hate being the only Jew in a one Jew town. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt and the scars. Won't be doing it again voluntarily in this lifetime.

In my wandering around yesterday, I spotted a second quilt store and a third needlework store. Today we went to lunch by ourselves, and not with the class. They were all going up the valley to some Nouvelle Cuisine joint. The boy wonder and I went to a Mexican restaurant just across the street from our hotel. Yowzah! It was just heaven on a soft tortilla.

We still have another two days of training, and then it's back to the grind. I have decided that converting the hospital site will take me a good six months. At least.

I'm in training again. Unlike the last time we did this, when my expectations were to be reduced to tears at least twice, I'm having a good time. The lunch-time visit to the winery up the road may have helped my mood. The hummingbirds outside the hotel window this morning may also have had to do with it.

Solvang has two needlework stores, a quilt store, and a spinning and weaving shop just across the street from my hotel. Is this a great village, or what?
Another reason I'm in such a happy place today is that the place I'm in is not my office. Despite a three-hour layover at LAX, where you cannot smoke outside the terminal, and a twenty minute flight on a prop-driven puddle jumper, the flying itself wasn't bad, either.

Let me go back to the no smoking rule for a minute. What's up with that? Are they afraid that smoking will damage the air quality at the airport? I mean, jeez, the air was brown and visible when I got there. Air you can see, what a concept.

Maybe it was the airport, maybe it was being in the puddle jumper annex, but another thing I noticed about California was that there is either a lot less plastic surgery than one is led to believe, or the surgeons out here are infinitely better at their jobs than the ones in Miami. I didn't see the same quantity of obvious noses, tits and facelifts than I do at home.

And the radio out here! Wow! It had new music, and Tejano music and classical music and live interviews with interesting people. Except for that thing about fire seasons, mud slides, mountain lions and the occasional earthquake, this could be a cool place to live. I prefer my natural disasters to have a timeline attached, like: "You have a hurricane heading your way, it should be here in a week." And then there's the price of housing. Even here in the valley, housing is not affordable. For what would buy a mini-mansion with a lot in over-priced Miami, you can get a cottage on a zero lot line here.

More observations later.

Cat, I'm a kitty cat, and I dance dance dance and I meow meow meow. (Thanks to Styrofoam Kitty for the heads up on this. And thanks to G-Shack, from whence I stole this, and loaded it on to my server. Full credits and kudos, but no link, cause it wasn't working.)

I can't stop playing that. Over and over. As for the Squirrels that go WHEEEEEE!, you can find them here. It's an acquired taste.

I'm blogging instead of packing. I told you I was into avoidance in a very big way.

Now this is one I didn't see coming. After all, I haven't listened to Howard in years. He'd ceased to amuse me since before the biographies. But this story in Salon has me gaga for Mr. Stern once again.

Among the other things the story has to say is this tidbit about exactly why Clear Channel pulled the plug on the King of All Media.

"Stern's torrent of Bush barbs came in the wake of Clear Channel Communications' move in late February to pull Stern off six of its stations, condemning his program as "vulgar, offensive and insulting." Following the controversial Super Bowl halftime show featuring Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson, Clear Channel, like most major broadcasters, was under scrutiny over allegations it broadcast indecency. ...

...But Stern quickly complained on-air that the real reason Clear Channel yanked his show was that just days earlier he'd begun questioning the president and praising comedian/commentator Al Franken's anti-Bush book "Lies, And the Lying Liars Who Tell Them." Stern insisted it was political speech, not indecency, that got him in trouble with the San Antonio broadcasting giant, whose CEO, Lowry Mays, is close to the president and the Bush family. The jock still condemns Clear Channel and its Republican connections, but most of Stern's firepower today is directed squarely at Bush and his close association with the religious right, which Stern says is the driving force behind the FCC crackdown on indecency."

And since I live in one of the six markets where Clear Channel cut Stern, I hadn't heard any of this:

"Stern had strongly backed Bush's war on Iraq, but in the past two weeks, he has derided the president as a "Jesus freak," a "maniac" and "an arrogant bastard," while ranting against "the Christian right minority that has taken over the White House." Specifically, Stern has assailed Bush's use of 9/11 images in his campaign ads, questioned his National Guard service, condemned his decision to curb stem cell research and labeled him an enemy of civil liberties, abortion rights and gay rights. "

I don't know about you, but that kind of talk just makes me all warm and fuzzy.