This was a weekend for varying members of the clan to hit the skies.
Emma had her parents accompany her to Michigan and back.
She displayed the inherited trait of being able to sack out on a noisy plane and wake just in time to announce her presence to other passengers within 2 -3 rows of her.
Moreover, now that Reid is back stateside, we will resume the practice of tossing his weekly letter into the mail.
This brings our world back to normal.
Here is last week’s letter to the kids.
August 6, 2012
Ellen/Reid: The ribs are feeling better day by day although the couch remains the most comfortable place to sleep. I still feel like a doofus for allowing the slips to happen at all. Tom thinks a change from heavy boots to more of a running/cross training shoe would help. Could be. All in all it could’ve been much worse. We did see one rescue helicopter venture into the high country, and the destination appeared to be in the direction of a group of 20-some kids we learned about from their adult leaders. We also read in the Jackson Hole paper about a woman from New York who suffered a compound fracture of the femur – ouch, ouch, ouch – near Lake Lozier (which we sped by save but a few minutes of fishing time) just before we went up top, although there was no real news about how they got her out. An online search found nothing. Now that would be real, excruciating pain. My aches would have been like so many insect bites by comparison. My golf has taken a hit while the ribs mend but I haven’t missed it a whole lot. There’s plenty of time to get back in the swing of things down here, like 12 months a year.
So it is back to the daily grind. That’s okay, I like what I do. My mid-year review was last week and it was good. It prodded me again to think about when to pull the plug, and if they will have me until I’m 65, that would be close enough to call it a ‘career’ – if such things still exist. If you’re counting, that’s about two and a half more years of toil. Of course, you’re only as good as your most recent week so even the best laid plans can go awry. But that seems relatively feasible.
Sorry to bother you both with my back-and-forth nonsense about the iPad and MacBook Air. No sooner had I signed the iPad sales slip at Target when a serious case of buyer’s remorse set in. The Air seems a relatively good choice. I leaned on Bob F., too, for his advice, and to sum up he said why get an iPad when the hand-held iPhone is so closely akin to it. I like the way the Air handles and feels, and the operating system is probably a little more stabile. Yet to be bought are the equivalents to MS Word. I’ve got to keep the clunky Acer around for the church newsletter but that is probably the highest and best use for that contraption. Ellen, the Air comes with Facetime, so keep little Emma within arm’s reach in case Gramps calls.
Reid, you have travel in your veins. Barcelona? How the heck does one get from London to Barcelona in the face of all that Olympic zaniness? Good for you. I’m envious that you just pull up stakes and go. It takes some nards to do that when you’re by your lonesome. What is the total count of nations you’ve visited? 11 by my rough tally, and that may be off a few. Hey, when you are back stateside, look at the first opportunity to A) get your carcass down to Charlotte or, B) tell me when we should get up to Chicago so you can meet Felicia and vice versa.
Keep the Emma videos flowing to the Southeast, Ellen. She looked so unhappy, but cute, on the way back from Cass Lake. She’s a good sport to be in her car seat all the time, especially when she wants to stretch her legs and kick out the jams. One thing about that sort of trip; you know you’re not childless anymore. It probably seems as if you had to pack enough gear for a round-the-world-cruise. Get used to it.
The Olympics have taken up some of the evening tube time although by confession, it seems pretty formulaic; gymnastics, swimming, basketball and the track events. It gets pretty boring sometimes. I’m a shoo-in for gold if/when it comes to lazing around on the couch while the rest of me mends. Too bad I don’t get to go to London to collect my medal.