My parents have been here for the past few days, so the toilets flush better, the plants stand straighter, and the showers run more powerfully. Yes, they spend their time fixing things around the house, with nary a complaint. In fact they claim to love it. And I love them for it. I see their touches in every corner of the house, and now I even feel their handiwork through the air ducts and the water pressure and more.

(They were here to witness the latest chapter in the garbage disposal saga, which I will not inflict upon you here; ask me about it sometime when pints are involved.)

My mom also helped me hang all the artwork in the upper floor and may I say, the place looks amazing. We even found a special place for my bodhran, a very meaningful and beautiful gift from my team in Northern Ireland.

To show my appreciation I took them to the Atlanta Cyclorama, an old-fangled but impressive round oil painting of the Battle of Atlanta. Please stop groaning. They loved it — truly they did. I'm sure that the cyclorama was something that all north Georgia students had to endure as a school field trip, but we found the medium fascinating and the history of this massive artwork (plus diorama) was compelling as well.

(This is actually the second cyclorama I've seen in my life — I did have a chance to see the Battle of Waterloo one in 2001, but I have to confess it made less of an impression on me!)

I love going into Atlanta and marking sites off my to-see list. It's even more fun to do with great people like my folks. We then had a scrumptious lunch in a small Grant Park joint and met some family friends in Midtown for coffee. I usually return from Atlanta with more items to add to the list, and many topics to research on Wikipedia.

My parents leave in the morning and I am always sad to see them go. I am so, so lucky that they come to visit and are willing to invest so much time and effort in me and my place. We always have interesting conversations and a healthy (!) exchange of ideas and opinions. And yes, most of our conversations come back to the three little boys back in Peoria.

I think I'm addicted to travel. I need to see new (even obscure) things outside my own ZIP code. A couple weeks ago during a stint in South Carolina I actually detoured through Edgefield, South Carolina ("Home of 10 Governors") to get a picture of Strom Thurmond High School.

  
 

Last weekend I made a little side trip to see Madison, Georgia, aka "The Town Sherman Refused to Burn," with its lovely Morgan County Courthouse.

 

I like going places. The next big trip is San Francisco in mid-April with my Nashville friends … and then nothing until Tucson in late October.

Fortunately I got a wonderful e-mail from family friends; their daughter is getting married over Fourth of July weekend in gorgeous Maine. I booked my tickets tonight!

And I also have discovered that Georgia has its own music hall of fame! It's true! A day trip awaits …

One of the best things about having a blog is that you can go back in time — you can go read what you were doing on X date 5 years ago.

Since I've barely had time to post lately, let's take a little reflective moment. Let's travel back to a few January 31sts. It's a very special day in my life because that is the day I arrived in Northern Ireland in 2008. But I've had a string of pretty good Jan. 31sts.

Step right in and here we go:

2009: Passing my UK driving test

2008: Day One as a resident of Northern Ireland 

2005: A few days before Jan. 31, in Memphis

2004: My 15 minutes of blogging fame … Biz Stone went on to invent a little company called Twitter 

2003: Worshipping at the Ryman

Yeah, life's been good!  

My grade school science teacher died last weekend, and I'm disappointed that I never had a chance to see him when I was a grown-up. I had dozens of questions for him, and not one of them was about science.

I find it hard to believe I lived all those years in Peoria, and seemed to run into people from all phases of my life, yet I never crossed paths with him after the mid-1980s.

I actually Googled him a couple months ago and came up empty. I also asked a colleague with the same surname if she knew anything about him, and she did not. Then, via Facebook, I received a link to his obituary.

He was a man of mystery, and that is why I had dozens of questions for him. The obituary answered a few: he was 84 and widowed since 2005. He had two sons and was a World War II veteran. And he had a master's degree in journalism. Yes, that one was a bit of a surprise.

But it's in keeping with his sense of wonder and curiosity, as he showed in one memorable incident with him when I was in 7th grade.

Continue reading “musher husher” →

The telethon for Haiti was on TV last night and I didn't watch it even though it brings to mind my all-time favorite "Simpsons" episode. That's the one where celebs record a song called "We're Sending Our Love Down the Well" after the media latches on to a story about a kid falling into a well.

Haiti is a very worthwhile cause — and I'm proud to work for a company that is matching all of its employees' donations. But I don't really need Madonna's earnest pleadings.

However, I rethought my position today when I saw a photo of the celebs who were answering the pledge phones. * sigh * If I'd called in, I might have spoken with Andy Garcia!

So today I videotaped my garbage disposal. It's true. I even narrated it.

You see, it won't work. Except for when it works. And the repair person comes on Monday. So I'm keeping a little video diary of the travails of the garbage disposal. (It is now working. Let's hope it's not working come Monday morning.)

How un-dramatic must one's life be to videotape home appliances?

MONDAY MORNING UPDATE: The thing ran like a top, styming the repair person and myself. [expletive deleted] I predict it will conk out within the next 12 hours.

Yeah, I just finished watching "Love Actually" for the third time, what of it? I see it with a new set of eyes (and ears) since having lived in the UK, and I can't stop this dopey grin when I see Hugh Grant shaking that bum all over 10 Downing Street. And Firth, and Freeman, and Neeson. Oh sigh.

I did take a break from this Richard Curtis shameless-manipulation-with-impeccable-soundtrack to watch the other RC s-m-w-i-s, "Notting Hill."

I'm thinking London for next New Year's.

A lot of people I know are counting the minutes until 2009 is in the rearview mirror. It was a rough year for so many, I cannot disagree. It didn't turn out exactly as I had planned. But as you might have read in the Thanksgiving letter, I have no complaints. (My annus horriblus was 2007 — I thought that one would never end. And nobody much liked 2001.)

Overall, I have to say: Best. Decade. Ever. For me personally, the Aughts ruled. New people, new places, new jobs, new blessings with each passing year. Ten years ago tonight, I said "2000 is going to be my year." And it wasn't too bad. Actually 2002 was my year. And 2003 wasn't shabby. And 2004, now THAT was a year … and 2008 was fantastic …

AlthoughI approach with 2010 with more uncertainty than perhaps any other year of the past 10, I know it's going to be a good one — nay, a GREAT one. Let's get it started.

Hi. Rough week. Here's the thing:

Don't make the rest of us do stupid, time-consuming things at the airport just because you screwed up. Yes, I care about "homeland security." You should too. That's why we have a no-fly list. And intelligence [in both senses of the word.] If you use them, then little old ladies from Dubuque and frequent-flier sales people from Peoria and little old me don't have to go through the rigamarole to prove we are not intent on blowing up the American Eagle Connection.

You have the tools and technology. Use them. Don't inflict pointless searches on us because, I promise you, we are not carrying explosive powder in our underpants.

In our business we hear a lot about the 80-20 rule. Look it up. Then apply it: focus on the 20 percent (more like 5 percent, I'd wager). Ground them. Leave the rest of us alone.

Happy new year.