Saturday, February 16, 2008
We be lounging
We made it to the airport. Here's Kristiana in the Virgin Atlantic upper class louinge.
This post is for our parents
Who may be tracking our every move. We're enroute to the airport. Fans of Kristiana should note she doesn't have her lipstick on yet in this photo, but has since taken care of it and looks even more beautiful.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Robin News
Hello Friends and Family --
As many of you may be aware, "Robin" is our working title for our child-to-be. We decided to go with a working title because (a) we weren't sure what sex baby was (Robin makes a good girl or boy name), and we didn't want to say "it" or "baby" all the time; and (b) we/I feel it's much more agreeable to talk to someone who has a name, even if it is only a temporary name.
Our latest news, as of our 20-week "anatomy" ultrasound last Friday --
Robin's brain is developing normally
Robin has a normal, 4-chamber heart
Robin has all fingers and toes, etc. -- in fact, everything looks good/normal!
The sonogram techs *think* that Robin is a she, but this is still uncertain.
So here we are at the halfway point (Robin is due June 5th). Here's one of our best pix -- I think *she* has a cute nose!
Of course I am biased.
Love,
Kristiana & Michael
Kristiana Kincaid
415.990.5123
Sent from my iPhone
Monday, December 03, 2007
Astounding decaf
This unbelievable fair-trade organic Peruvian decaf from Barefoot Coffee Roasters makes them even stupider. Absolutely first-rate French press by any standard.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Now I have a phone that takes and mails pictures
Unfortunately when I mailed a photo to Kristiana, it showed up on her end as a winmail.dat file, not the expected JPEG. Ewwww.
But when I send a photo to myself, a coworker, or gmail, it comes out fine. So let's see how Blogger handles it.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Reno
Well damn. Not even 6am, and I've already flatlined my camera battery.
I'm in Reno at my friend Margaret's behest, helping her get her home office set up. Internet, wireless printer, faxing, new computer, etc., etc. She's grateful for my help with this IT stuff. But she shuddered when I told her my fee: getting up long before dawn, because this is balloon race weekend in Reno.
I've come to the Great Reno Balloon Race three or four times before, but not in the last few years. The day begins early - we left the house at 4:15, which is early even for me, especially at altitude - so we can drive somewhere near the field, make our way through the streets
I'm in Reno at my friend Margaret's behest, helping her get her home office set up. Internet, wireless printer, faxing, new computer, etc., etc. She's grateful for my help with this IT stuff. But she shuddered when I told her my fee: getting up long before dawn, because this is balloon race weekend in Reno.
I've come to the Great Reno Balloon Race three or four times before, but not in the last few years. The day begins early - we left the house at 4:15, which is early even for me, especially at altitude - so we can drive somewhere near the field, make our way through the streets
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Halloween is here
I know because I saw great big crates of it on dollies outside the florist near my office.
No photo, unfortunately (gotta get me one of those cameraphones). But stacks of big boxes labeled "Halloween" at your local stores can mean only one thing: it's early August.
I haven't posted in a week because nothing's been happening. Kristiana and I have both been sick, which isn't interesting to write about no matter how hard I try. It's not even the mildly-entertaining, schadenfreude kind of sick; just ordinary sore-throat, sleepy-all-day, open-the-refrigerator-and-can't-remember-what-you-were-looking-for kind of sick. We're mostly over it now.
In other news...there is no other news.
See you when there is.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Asilomar
Kristiana promised (to Kristi, at least; I don't know to whom else) that I'd write some kind of post-trip wrap-up, but I'm not ready. Firstly because there are a handful more details about the trip I wanted to write before attempting some kind of grand (or not so) summation, and secondly because no sooner are we home from one trip and a little bit recovered from the time change than we're off on another -- or at least I am, but I'm hoping Kristiana will join me.
I'm writing from the main living room of Asilomar, where my company is holding a company retreat, spouses invited. Asilomar is a state park and rustic conference center / getaway on the Monterey coast which takes its name from the combination of two Spanish words, one signifying "beautiful view of the sea" and the other "no internet access." The latter had a couple of us pretty terrified, but it turns out that in a concession to us brittle city folk you can in fact get online from the main lodge where I am now. Despite which, out of force of habit I am writing on my blackberry.
The actual lodgings are spread out across the grounds in various directions. They do not have internet access, nor telephones, nor televisions. The intent is that you show up here and fully commit yourself to calm repose and the quiet contemplation of nature (unless you brought your smartphone which, well, pretty much all of us do). And if you absolutely, positively need your fix, you have only to roam a few hundred yards to the lodge, in the dark, stalked by bears or sea lions or whatever runs around out here, to get it.
I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I'm sure it will be very nice.
The plan is that tonight we will meet for cocktails (more accurately wine and cheese, but conceptually it's pre-meeting cocktails) in our conference room. Apparently this is slightly illicit, but because I was tasked with bringing the wine and cheese I didn't ask for details: it's probably better if I don't know. We will take dinner in the common dining hall, then retire to our rooms to read, meditate, enjoy the coastal air, and get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow, though, after a day of meetings we're going in to Carmel for dinner (at Bouchee, a favorite), and I'm pretty sure there will be real cocktails.
Kristiana unfortunately came home to a much less calm situation at work than I did, and isn't able to get away to be here tonight. I'm very much hoping she'll be able to manage it tomorrow.
Part of the reason I've lodged myself in the lodge is that I'm pretty sure I'm the first one here - everybody said they'd leave work around lunchtime, but I seem to be the only one who did - and I wanted to spot and greet the rest of of my group as thet checked in. Now that it's been a while, I'm thinking maybe I should go and hide instead. It's bad enough that I've just been on vacation for two weeks, I also sacrificed most of a day of work to jet-lag zombie disease, and now to arrive at our coporate retreat long before everyone else makes me look like a slacker.
Or maybe I'll just sit here and read my book. In keeping with the let's-work-smarter-not-harder theme of our retreat, I brought "Four Hour Work Week."
I'm writing from the main living room of Asilomar, where my company is holding a company retreat, spouses invited. Asilomar is a state park and rustic conference center / getaway on the Monterey coast which takes its name from the combination of two Spanish words, one signifying "beautiful view of the sea" and the other "no internet access." The latter had a couple of us pretty terrified, but it turns out that in a concession to us brittle city folk you can in fact get online from the main lodge where I am now. Despite which, out of force of habit I am writing on my blackberry.
The actual lodgings are spread out across the grounds in various directions. They do not have internet access, nor telephones, nor televisions. The intent is that you show up here and fully commit yourself to calm repose and the quiet contemplation of nature (unless you brought your smartphone which, well, pretty much all of us do). And if you absolutely, positively need your fix, you have only to roam a few hundred yards to the lodge, in the dark, stalked by bears or sea lions or whatever runs around out here, to get it.
I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I'm sure it will be very nice.
The plan is that tonight we will meet for cocktails (more accurately wine and cheese, but conceptually it's pre-meeting cocktails) in our conference room. Apparently this is slightly illicit, but because I was tasked with bringing the wine and cheese I didn't ask for details: it's probably better if I don't know. We will take dinner in the common dining hall, then retire to our rooms to read, meditate, enjoy the coastal air, and get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow, though, after a day of meetings we're going in to Carmel for dinner (at Bouchee, a favorite), and I'm pretty sure there will be real cocktails.
Kristiana unfortunately came home to a much less calm situation at work than I did, and isn't able to get away to be here tonight. I'm very much hoping she'll be able to manage it tomorrow.
Part of the reason I've lodged myself in the lodge is that I'm pretty sure I'm the first one here - everybody said they'd leave work around lunchtime, but I seem to be the only one who did - and I wanted to spot and greet the rest of of my group as thet checked in. Now that it's been a while, I'm thinking maybe I should go and hide instead. It's bad enough that I've just been on vacation for two weeks, I also sacrificed most of a day of work to jet-lag zombie disease, and now to arrive at our coporate retreat long before everyone else makes me look like a slacker.
Or maybe I'll just sit here and read my book. In keeping with the let's-work-smarter-not-harder theme of our retreat, I brought "Four Hour Work Week."
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Boarded for SFO
We've boarded our flight for home.
It was not in the least a routine effort. First our tube station - the one we used yesterday - was closed, necessitating a walk to the next one. Then there were delays at King's Cross, a string of trains help up due to someone becoming ill on board and then the subsequent train being taken out of service. Meanwhile the throngs continued to build up. The train we evenntually fit on stopped unaccountable for several minutes, one stop short of our goal. I don't have time to detail all that followed, but we made it abord with very little margin. Anyway, we're on our way home.
It was not in the least a routine effort. First our tube station - the one we used yesterday - was closed, necessitating a walk to the next one. Then there were delays at King's Cross, a string of trains help up due to someone becoming ill on board and then the subsequent train being taken out of service. Meanwhile the throngs continued to build up. The train we evenntually fit on stopped unaccountable for several minutes, one stop short of our goal. I don't have time to detail all that followed, but we made it abord with very little margin. Anyway, we're on our way home.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Funnier than the Black Death
We have obtained last-moment tickets to Monty Python's Spamalot. Fourth row.
London
We've arrived in London. We left out suitcases at Heathrow and came into town with just our carryons stuffed with what we need for one night.
While the hotel got our room ready we made our pilgrimage to Forbidden Planet. We're capable of spending a lot of time there, but after just an hour and a half Kristiana commanded me to remove her before she could add further to her growing stack of book purchases. Fearing for our luggage weight allowance, I agreed.
Now we're checked in at our hotel. For reasons mysterious to us both we have been upgraded to what I call a large, oddly-shaped room and what the hotel calls a suite. To me a suite implies space subdivided somehow by an interior doorway which our room lacks, but no matter, it is large and comfortable and above the city's noise.
Besides our bed, topped by a four foot square light green pillow like some sort of great woolen turndown mint, there is a sitting area with coffee table, a walk-in closet, a long bathroom with dual taps and separate tub and shower, and a desk slash master control station with enough outlets for a small press corps' worth of cell phone chargers (if they didn't want to use the 71-button - I'm not kidding - room telephone). The hanging lamp is decorative, and there are framed kimonos on the walls. The chief reminder that we are not really the sorts of people that a hotel puts in its _best_ suites is the view, which features an interior courtyard of roofs and ventilation ducts.
Plans for tonight are not set.
While the hotel got our room ready we made our pilgrimage to Forbidden Planet. We're capable of spending a lot of time there, but after just an hour and a half Kristiana commanded me to remove her before she could add further to her growing stack of book purchases. Fearing for our luggage weight allowance, I agreed.
Now we're checked in at our hotel. For reasons mysterious to us both we have been upgraded to what I call a large, oddly-shaped room and what the hotel calls a suite. To me a suite implies space subdivided somehow by an interior doorway which our room lacks, but no matter, it is large and comfortable and above the city's noise.
Besides our bed, topped by a four foot square light green pillow like some sort of great woolen turndown mint, there is a sitting area with coffee table, a walk-in closet, a long bathroom with dual taps and separate tub and shower, and a desk slash master control station with enough outlets for a small press corps' worth of cell phone chargers (if they didn't want to use the 71-button - I'm not kidding - room telephone). The hanging lamp is decorative, and there are framed kimonos on the walls. The chief reminder that we are not really the sorts of people that a hotel puts in its _best_ suites is the view, which features an interior courtyard of roofs and ventilation ducts.
Plans for tonight are not set.
We were upgraded at our London hotel
the walk-in closet.
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