Unfortunately, it looks as if TOP will not update for a few days. I'm going to Michigan to visit my cousin. I had hoped to update the site from my iPad, from the road. I should have gotten started working out the bugs earlier, though, because when I tried to make it work last night, I couldn't. Too late to troubleshoot now; and I assume I'll have no luck doing so once I'm away from the Mothership (the iMac, a.k.a. TOP World HQ).
Did you know they make tiny computers you can carry around? Word. They fold up like a book and are no larger than a thick fashion magazine. Well, an annual issue. They are called lapdogs or something like that—something with "lap" in it, and nothing to do with reindeer herders or Amish families. I will have to query the Financial Dept. to see if the enterprise can invest in a Remote Unit—now that the kid's in college, I can travel.
I am actually not good at traveling. Not good at all. My father loved to plan trips, and did a great job of it—he called himself "The Tour Director." I suspect that I'm the sort who needs a tour director...and I probably would be even if I hadn't assumed the role of one of the tour-directed throughout childhood.
For instance, this morning, getting ready to go, I lost my socks. I laid out clean socks last night, and this morning I had them in my hand, and then they were gone. I looked all over. Yes, even in the microwave. No socks. So I had to go down in the basement where the laundry machines are and scrounge for another clean pair. And then when I sat down here to write this—well, the socks are sitting on top of the phone. Why is that? How did they get there? I'm sure I have no idea. I must be involved, in some way.
All that took ten minutes and cut into the time needed to consume my Kona. I'm now at T minus sixteen minutes and probably won't make it out of the garage on schedule. Luckily, I have planned some slop time to account for such distractions. I am disorganized, but I am experienced at being disorganized.
You can imagine what it would be like when I travel. Passport? What? I once missed a plane in the Boston airport and had to wait six hours for the next one—which I then missed because I had forgotten to reset my watch to local time. That, in a nutshell, is what it is like when I travel.
I would need a companion. A competent companion.
The NEX-6 with its adequately sharp lens is in the Billingham 225 (which has no lapdog slot, by the way, a shortcoming). I have cards, the charger, and an extra battery, and am idly wondering what item necessary for successful photography I could have forgotten; I'll discover what it is as soon as I am no longer able to retrieve it.
Lee Friedlander published a book (a book! I forgot to pack the Kindle!) about a sculptor, whose name I cannot retrieve from the mainframe at present, who had to be accompanied whenever he left his house. The reason was that he would take whatever turn in the road looked the most interesting or beautiful, until he was thoroughly lost and had no hope of finding his way back home. Someone had to go with him whenever he went anywhere or he would disappear for days on end.
I can relate.
Sorry to leave you abruptly like this, but, like herpes, MacArthur, Springtime, and the rains, I shall return.
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