My parents on vacation. They're off to Egypt, seeing the Nile and the spot where the concept of Empire was born, without which there'd be no way to have grand strategy games like Civilization and Victoria. While I do love them and appreciate that I have time with them, I also appreciate time away from them, when I can do things like not take the soda cans out of the 12-pack box when there are a mere nine left, or I can erase the fifteen episodes of Law and Order that the Tivo records on Monday and Tuesday which no one will never see (she only watches on the weekends) but which force other shows off. In short, we're all on vacation.
As the unattached child of the group I got airport-driving chores, of course, and there was a little twist. For my parents' early-evening flight they wanted to arrive three hours early, as recommended, but then to get an hour before that for the chance of getting an exit-row seat. As my mother pointed out, though, she had a short checkup at a hospital an hour away from here, at 7:15 am. (The doctor starts early and gets behind quickly, and my mother's a morning person.) And then my father had a different appointment, at a clinic not far from the hospital, for the same day for 9:30. So there's the options of both of them going up separately, coming back, then going back the same direction for the airport; or there's we all get up by 5:30 am and set off, eat breakfast between appointments, and drop them off around noon for their 6:30 pm flight. My mother left the choice to me; my suspicion was that we were going to do the last option, which has the least driving. And so we did.
And how are the cats taking it? My parents were more circumspect about their packing, so the cats were less worried the past few days than usual. The kitten, although she's never seen anything like this except when the Christmas Tree was taken down, seemed to understand this was big. The middle cat was determined to rub my legs and make sure I didn't get away too. The eldest cat is sitting on the top of her chair, and hasn't moved since.
Trivia: Clarence Birdseye built his first frozen-food plant in New York in 1923. By 1928 a million pounds of quick-frozen foods were sold in the United States, most of them Birdseye. Source: Absolute Zero and the Conquest of Cold, Tom Shachtman.
Currently Reading: A World Out Of Time, Larry Niven.