My folks got here last night with Esta, having driven twelve hours up from Asheville to coastal NJ. Needless to say, blogging will be even lighter over the next few days.

I don’t have a large posterior. In fact, I recently had to punch a new hole in my belt after losing about twenty pounds. So why is it that each time I wear a pair of khakis with a rear pocket button, that the button catches on the arm of an airplane seat, pulls loose, and is lost?

I have two hypotheses. One is that there is a bitter undeclared war between airplane seats and pant buttons. The former, jealous of the latter’s freedom and mobility, scheme impotently for their destruction, and reach out to burst their threads and strike them loose at the first opportunity.

The second hypothesis is that there is an airborne Underground Railroad for pant pocket buttons seeking the quixotic pursuit of independence, and that through long hours of conversation with the airplane seats, they have converted the uncomfortable chairs to their cause. Now they whisper one to another about the fate of their peers, and urge hope to be kept alive. Someday, when the maintenance crew finds them, they will be free, and maybe go to Hawai’i.

I should perhaps have mentioned that, in addition to the outage on my static server, my blogging is being slowed by travel today (originally written Thursday 12/17). Lisa and I are currently (9:20 AM Pacific time) on our way to New Jersey, on a non-stop flight through JFK. With two dogs.

The first few hours of our day have been as uneventful as possible under the circumstances. We awoke an hour later than planned (future note to self: to avoid turning on the wrong alarm, always turn on both the night before taking a cross country trip!), hurriedly showered and took the dogs outside, then tried to convince them to eat, and were just getting them in their travel bag when the airport shuttle arrived. The drive to the airport was uneventful along the HOV lanes.

At the airport, we checked in and tried unsuccessfully to get them to attend to business before boarding. By the time all that was done, Lisa had missed her opportunity for Starbucks, as she was in the first boarding. (First class for these dogs all the way!) As I was back in coach, I had a few minutes to pop off for an espresso and croissant before my row was called. Such is my compensation for the cramped seat in which I am spending the next four and a half hours across the country—alas, no exit row set this time.

We are perhaps half an hour into the flight. Already Lisa has come aft to get the second travel bag; apparently our puppies are growing too restless to share their travel kennel. Meanwhile I can do little, from ten rows and a bulkhead back, but attempt to catch up on my reading in Peterson’s Jefferson, watch the western country unfold below me in great ripples of snowy mountains and vast expanses of arid plains, and write. And maybe catch a nap.

Nothing says “happy ending” to a vacation quite like a wedding—or at least a celebration of one. We got back an hour or so ago from the celebration of Shel’s wedding to Eric “Vik” Gamble (which happened with a small group of family the day before Thanksgiving). Shel was radiant even four days after the wedding and the reception was great fun. Here’s hoping that the happy occasion is a beginning to many more happy years.

I finally found my Bluetooth adapter, so I moved all the photos off the phonecam from last weekend. I’m especially fond of the photos from Santa Rosa (see right), of the town’s most famous resident.

It was a cold morning, but we walked out early for espresso. I had to see the statue, after having read about it on the museum website. That is, of course, The Great Pumpkin next to the statue, placed there on Halloween apparently.