I've figured out how to get on the internet from almost anywhere on the planet. But where do I find myself unable to get online? At my Dad's house in Virginia.

He has this wicked buzz and crackle on his phone line he's never done anything about. My computer couldn't even connect to his ISP. Today, finally, the phone company showed up to fix it. They remedied the crackle but not the buzz. That was good enough to get online... so here we are.

I accomplished exactly one thing in the past week. Dad wanted to do away with his behemoth projection TV in favor of a smaller flat paned job. So I drove a hour or so to Roanoke and picked up a nice little 16:9 LCD monitor and a DVD/Surround Sound all-in-one box. The hope is it's all simple enough for him to keep using after I leave. We'll see.

"I used to feel like I could blend back in here."
I've noticed over the last few years that I'm becoming less and less comfortable with people when I come back to southwestern Virginia. I guess it's just me getting further and further from the time when I was part of this place. I used to feel like I could blend back in here. It's not like I ever really fit in, but I thought I could at least act the part. Now it feels more and more like an alien environment. I suppose that's to be expected when you're not part of a place for so long.

I'm probably headed on a little road trip next week. Things have been arranged for me to have a car while I'm here. So I'm gonna head up to Washington to see some friends, then maybe on to Pittsburgh by way of Altoona. And maybe... maybe... one more trip to Cincinnati for a couple of things I need to take care of. All that... and I want to get to Charlotte at some point, too. Should be fun. Then I hope I can go back by Mom's for a couple of days.

"It's disposable poignance."
The photo up there is me leaving WLWT for the last time. It's always very interesting leaving a place you know you won't be back to for a long time. You look at things you've seen every day and think about how you might never see them again. Then you walk away and don't think much about them anymore. It's disposable poignance... or something.