Thursday, August 25, 2005

 

We're on our way home

Suddenly we're tourists. Or it's that suddenly we're on vacation. As opposed to being on a mission.
Ooh. Except right at this minute, Susan is on the phone with someone from Albuquerque's channel 7. And my stommach has left the building.
We're going to talk about our trip. So I guess it isn't over yet. I thought I'd heard the fat lady, but no.
Ok, so now suddenly I'm thinking in sound bites. And am slightly disgusted with myself for my reductionism.
Susan and I have talked a lot about packaging on this trip - how to render experience into digestible chunks. We've lamented the info-tainment that convinced us that Texas was an extremist "red state"; that might have made people assume we were hysterical "Blues."
But I can't imagine getting more than five minutes to speak my piece. Sheesh, our piece. Two and a half minutes. Minus forty-five seconds times two for questions. That leaves forty-five seconds.
Ok. Eek.
Love your hair. Hope you win.

Comments:
I'm so exhausted cleaning up little patches of dirt in the Bay Area's back yard that about all I can do for the world outside of work is give money to the NRDC when they call me up while I'm playing online games. I'm so glad and amazed that someone in our family was at Crawford (i.e., you). My first thought when the towers fell was "crap, not only is this a horrible thing, but how many crazy things will our nation do before people can think clearly about this?" The magnitude of the thing at Crawford has given me some hope for the first time in a long time.
 
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