All looks good (and indeed, great to be back with Bette, George, Chris, Ann, and all),
saying goodbye at the airport, but, if there's a logistical lesson,
it's perhaps to always make one's own flying arrangements:
intending to transfer planes during November in Minnesota is tantamount to taking an August vacation in South Carolina.
Snowstorms and hurricanes are not unknown re certain places and times.
The
two
breakfasts
(Hobbit-like,
one including Colin Jeynes
at
Concordville
Inn,
the
other
locally,
with
legendarily
lengthy
laughs),
eventual
lunch
at a
Mexican spot,
and
trip
(via
1
northeast
and
476
south)
to the
airport portend reasonably well.
Only an ominous announcement dashes all hopes.
Rescheduling via a little-red-card-provided hot line, the best option seems to be flying out the next morning via Atlanta and Salt Lake City --
attempts to reach Diablo Valley College, and obtain a reasonable overnight situation both prove questionable.
337th day of summer back home, with again a high of 79 -- a not totally unreasonable 63 locally...
