the best imitation of myself

I'm back from Florida (btw I went to Florida), where our seders were lovely and so was all the company. Well, most of it. I made it a full fifteen hours before the first stirrings of homicidal rage! My flight back last night was delayed two and a half hours (as were ALL the flights in the terminal, due apparently to . . . good weather? It's a mystery!) but I found friendly people at the bar, and also alcohol, and then silentfire was kind enough to pick my drunk self up from the airport at one a.m. (drunk is pretty much the only way to fly) and then gamely listen to my half-crazed fannish meta ramblings over coffee until three. I drew Venn diagrams! One day I will probably inflict them upon you all, apologies in advance.

Elsewhere: My dad is passive-aggressively furious at me, but that's not exactly new, and I even 75% deserve it. I'm thinking seriously about teaching English abroad (if you or someone you know has any experience or advice, please let me know?); I've made some promising contacts and struck up some actualfax correspondence. I'm behind on tv. I'm finally making progress on this pair of gloves I've started knitting like fifty times now, hallelujah.

And hey, Happy National Poetry Month:

In Praise of Limestone
W. H. Auden

( If it form the one landscape that we, the inconstant ones, / Are consistently homesick for, this is chiefly / Because it dissolves in water. )