Always check. Before speaking, I mean

Gunner turned me on to a firewall I'd never even heard of, Jetico. It meets my main criteria of being compatible with Windows Vista. If the amount of dialog boxes I am having to click through in the course of every session are any indication, once it gets out of "learn mode" it will be quite protective. However, since I have serviced 17 dialog boxes just since I started this, I am not sure how long I will be able to put up with its learning curve. We'll see.

On Boston Legal, Denny Crane announces, "It's a rule I have. I always check for midgets before speaking." Of course, Denny Crane needs to. She's stealthy.

OK, podnah, I'm a headed out to John Wayne Airport which is in, interestingly enough, Santa Ana, CA. The OC. Orange County. About as un-cowboy an area as you'll find. I know. I lived just down the road in Long Beach. Looks like I'll be there again this Thursdsay and Friday.

Then Monday-Wednesday I shall be back in the windy city. On Southwest Airlines. Dinggg! I am now free to move about the country. I was talking to a lady in D.C. who enlightened me as to their policy of no assigned seating. That sounds bad for me. Basically, if you don't understand the rules, and in this case I do not, then the rules shall screw you. No, seriously. That's just Life 101. I stand by for my screwing. I suppose I will be in middle seat hell. Getting aboard late enough to miss out on overhead bin space.

In NH I was driving everyday by a machine that looked like a large, horizontally oriented, wood chipper. It was sitting on a flat spot on the side of a hill, with the hillside displaying bare rock sides. It was surrounded by large boulders and trucks that looked to haul things away. My summation was that they were digging the boulders up (or cutting them off, I am unclear) and feeding them in to the machine. Turning big rocks into little rocks that are bound, again by my summation, for driveways and flower gardens all across this great and varied nation. If you are like me, you had never really asked yourself, "Where do little rocks come from?" (Well, Rocky, when a daddy stone really loves a mama pebble...)

I also crossed the Merrimack River repeatedly. It was beautiful. And my view was inclusive of an old wrought iron bridge, a tree lined bank, and water splashing up and around stones in it's path, which forms a little whitewater thingy. It was gorgeous. However, my view came from a highway bridge with little in the way of a breakdown lane. And, as you may recall from last post, it was -20 degrees and windy. Not ideal for exploring if you're a Florida boy. So the picture I had really wanted to get will have to wait until next time.

I dropped almost $250 on dinner and drinks for my boss and 2 co-workers down in MA (I never thought I'd be somewhere where I headed south to get to MA). I found that to be awfully expensive. Looking at my bill, I had paid $9.50 for a shot of Knob Creek bourbon. It's good bourbon, but still. Anyway, I was complaining about the cost and contemplating a future where it was not expensed due to the rather sizable bar bill. Companies seem a bit persnickety about paying for your booze I have learned.

During my musing/complaint/tirade one of the local boys said to me, "That was expensive. Wheah did yah go to eat?" "I don't know. Somewhere in North Andover." "Nahth Ahndover? Hell, that's the expehnsive paht of town!" Well... how was I to know? It was a dark road into the woods from I-93 N. Do I look local??

Dulles is a French word meaning "certian delay". I had always had the worst luck at O'Hare, but Washington-Dulles is giving it a run for its money. Flying up my flight was cancelled. It was too windy to fly. Or land. Or something. So, rather than delay my flight, or move me to another flight, they cancelled it altogether, explaining it with a curt "Sorry, maybe you should look for a hotel" and moved on to the next customer. I was able to get a flight into Boston by assuming, correctly, that they'd be flying bigger planes into Logan. But by changing flights I also assumed, again correctly, that my bag would be lost. I had to teach the first day in my traveling clothes. Luckily I dress well, so there were no frayed jeans or inappropriate t-shirts involved.

Coming back, I got to Dulles, looked at the gate assignments and saw right off the bat that my flight was already delayed. Had a plane. Had passengers. The weather in both starting point and destination was good. The problem? The pilots and crew had not arrived yet from... wait for it... Boston. Maybe its not Dulles. The Boston area seems to be central in all of my travel woes. Which brings me to my final point...

My home office is in Woburn, MA. I have since found out it is pronounced Woo-ben. But I thought otherwise when I was asked what I was doing one night. "Taking my boss and co-workers out to dinner," I said. "They're up here?" "No, down in Woburn. But I'm just a little concerned." "Why?" "Well think about it. Woe means sadness and despair and burn is something else you don't really want." "Ha ha. I see what you mean."

Saga Man, out

Ramblin' Ed