I try not to go down off the mountain too much, but today I had to take my son to the airport. It was still dark when we started out, and raining, traveling down this monster steep incline that has become a blast zone where they are widening the road. Things got better after the sun came up.
There was almost no traffic and we made pretty good time to the airport. I let him off at the front door just as his group leader got off the bus. I soon proceeded to the parking garage, where I easily got a parking slip and chose a spot near the counter. It was all going smoothly, but there was a price to pay later.
After everyone arrived they did the passport thing and the baggage thing and then it was time to move on to where mommies and other hangers-on cannot go. The kid waved goodbye and then was gone.
I stopped by the Starbucks on the way out because I had heard good things but had never tried their coffee. I had also heard that the baristi will correct your pronunciation without fail, but I am proud to say that I mangled Caffe Latte so well that they didn't even bother. "What size would you like?" "Tawl." They did surprise me by asking if I was going to take their picture, and asked if I was a reporter. I had forgotten that I had my old Olympus still strapped around my neck, and was also carrying my laptop and the backpack that holds my camera bag. I guess they figured that anyone who hauled around that much gear must have a good reason. I offered to photograph them and put it up on the Internet, but they declined.
I finally got in the car to leave. That's when the trouble started.
There were numerous signs such as and marked "Exit" and pointing in various directions. I soon found that following those signs only led you in a grand circle. Sometimes there were even two exit signs pointing in opposite directions. Once I found a way to cross over to another parking deck. I did that and circled the other deck a few times, then crossed back to the original. Eventually I found ramps toward the center of the deck that allowed you to drive up and down a level. I chose down and after a while found a gate where a lady took my money and allowed me to escape. She agreed that the decks were difficult to navigate.
On the way home I stopped at Circuit City and touched some Nikon DSLRs. Nice!
There was a message from my son on my machine when I got home. He said that he had gotten on the wrong plane and was in Texas. I already knew that they were stopping over in Houston but it was good to hear they had gotten that far. He also said there is good coffee to be had in Texas.
I am a member of the local food taskforce. I would love to sit here and tell you that I have some special skill or knowledge that qualifies me for this distinction. Truth is, they have me because I show up for the meetings.
Food is an important part everyday life. Greater minds than mine have gone on in length about the spiritual nature of food, the economic and ecological value, the nutritional value, the danger of losing control. I am not qualified to comment. I do see that all of these different levels need to be addressed.
Meanwhile, back at the meeting, there is certainly much work to be done. We have much brainstorming and discussion. Intermediate goals are identified. It turns out that I have the connections around town to bring about the graphic representation of our food system as it exists. Children photographing their idea of food. I can't wait to see what they show me.