LAX

The Rev. and I drove up to L.A. last night, and as I type this, he is somewhere over the state of New Mexico or Texas. He will be in Puebla by early evening.

We took our time leaving yesterday afternoon, and instead of willingly subjecting ourselves to the head-banging frustration that is the I-5, we opted to drive up Highway 1 last night. The Pacific was on our left and funky beach towns were on our right. We also wondered what people did for a living to own a 4,000 square foot house on the beach. Being that we are unimaginative people, we could not get past doctors or lawyers. And given the fair amount of medical offices touting plastic surgery we saw en route, I could probably tell you the doctor's specialty.

We stayed at the LAX Hilton last night and if I had not been so tired, I would have stayed up for people watching in the lobby. There was a sorority party, a Bar Mitzvah, and some sort of conference where everyone was casualy dressed and carrying around laptops. It was an interesting mix, especially the drunken sorority girls trying to maintain a semblance of sobriety as they staggered through the lobby, either on the arm of a sister or the arm of a date. I was in a sorority in college, and there were strict rules about drinking in public, so I guess times have changed or the girls thought they were doing a good job of faking it. "If I stare straight ahead, walk really slowly, and speak slowly, maybe I will fool everybody." Right, that works every time.

The next morning we heard Italian, German, and Japanese in the hotel lobby and it was more people watching. I did not take The Rev. to the airport, because he could catch the hotel shuttle and get there faster. He also did not want to subject me to the traffic snarls that tend to encircle one of the largest international airports in the country. Bless him. I won't lie to you, it was hard to say good-bye, and it really has not sunk in that he will be gone until August 18th. We just stood there in the lobby looking at each other and what do you say to someone who is leaving you, but isn't leaving you? Well, you put on your big girl panties and you say good-bye and you don't let him see the two big tears that are in the corners of your eyes because you know that if you cry, he will cry, and you don't want to embarass a man wearing cowboy boots in L.A.

So, he is gone and the house is empty and the dog is morose. She knows something is not quite right, and I estimate that it will take her about a week to figure out that she can quit sleeping by the door, because he isn't coming home for another 84 days.