I love my in-laws, but there's a reality of physics that comes into play whenever they visit. Two bodies cannot occupy the same space at the same time. The two bodies being those of my in-laws and those of me and my husband. The space in question is my bed.
It is a product of my upbringing that when parents come to visit, they are given my bedroom (the most comfortable in the house). My husband and I juggle around the rest of the beds in the house and normally sleep on the air mattress in one of the girls' room, but that air mattress has a hole in it. Since the BG was out camping with her father, the Pirate and I slept in her room, one of us on each bunk. Needless to say, we didn't sleep well.
Even though the sleeping arrangements are never what one might hope for, I love my in-laws so the rude shock we got on Saturday morning, that the Pirate's 90-year-old grandmother had fallen and broken her hip, was a double trauma as it meant that his parents had to leave immediately. Elsie has has surgery and is now doing as well as can be expected, but the Pirate's mother is very sad.
My work group was having their kickoff meeting for the 2008 version of our product on Tuesday and Wednesday in Reno. That meant three hours of meetings Tuesday afternoon, followed by a big group dinner (open bar - I love corporate America), followed by one big eight-to-five megameeting on Wednesday.
There was a lot to be learned in that megameeting. Like...I now know exactly how long I can sit in a plastic chair before the pain becomes so intense I have to pretend I need to use the restroom so that I can get up and walk around. Like...in what order my extremities will go to sleep and in what order they will feel pins and needles (it's not the same order!).
I flew in Tuesday morning with three of my colleagues. We arrived at lunchtime and they were starving so we drove past the north office (we have two campuses in Reno) and then went looking for a restaurant. We figured that if we just followed a major street, we would eventually find a decent restaurant where one could be assured of finding something resembling a vegetable that hadn't been deep-fried.
We drove for forty-five minutes out of Reno and into the city of Sparks (population 81,673 as of July 2004) which boasts exactly one restaurant that we could find: the Black Bear Diner. What it lacks in quality it makes up for in quantity, meaning that while you're only getting iceburg lettuce and greasy fried chicken, you're at least getting it by the bucketful. We all knew that the minute we got back to the office, some wiseass would say "Why didn't you go around the corner to Jeff & Akbar's Cheap Gourmet Food Hut?"
Sho'nuff, we get back to the office and Swami Abhishek says "But if you'd just gone by the South campus, there are about a zillion restaurants down there."
His black eye should be better by the weekend.
The flight home was great, although I have to admit, I am a secret air terrorist. I had put a travel-sized tube of toothpaste into my backpack and forgotten about it, and I made it onto the airplane. That's right, the same airplane with a good 25 of my colleagues on it. My company is just lucky I didn't have any hair gel to detonate it with, or there'd be no team to launch next year's release. As it was, we all just had a good laugh about it in the airport bar.
I'm going to be going to Reno a lot. You're jealous, aren't you. Admit it. You are.