Hot in Herre

For the third consecutive day San Francisco is as hot as George Clooney in the hallucination scene from Alfonso Cuarón’s Gravity, so B, Sid, the dogs and I are planning to ditch our upstairs bedrooms tonight in favor of a campout in the main floor living room where it’s a much more tolerable O Brother, Where Art Thou? on the George Clooney Movie Hotness Scale.

I'm Currently Drink on an Airplane

First of all, after a full day of riding in cars and on trains we are finally on an airplane that will (hopefully) deliver us safely from O'Hare to San José.

And secondly, as I walked aboard this aircraft a few minutes ago holding a clear plastic cup of red wine from a bar in the airport food court the flight attendant manning the airplane door asked "Is that red wine?" and I responded "Uh huh." and then she said "I didn't think airports were allowed to do that." and then I said absolutely nothing because I was busy guzzling my plastic cup of red wine before she could take it away from me.