Ice, talks, and bloodwedding.

Since it seems like the last time I updated this was my whining about the conference I just attended, looks like a good time to add an entry.

As I'm sure anyone with a tv, radio, or ISP knows, NC got hit with a massive ice storm last Wed. 1.8M folks without power at the peak (still at 300k+ tonight). I managed to squeak out of town Wed morning on my way to DC for the conference before the weather got nasty, thankfully.

Leah was stuck at home for two days without power or heat though, while I was comfy and warm in a DC Marriott. Oops. The conference went well, and I'm pretty sure my talk was well received... not only was I literally grabbed on my way back to my seat to discuss some research collaboration possibilities, but a couple of minutes later I got a job offer from someone else. (Not in the NW, dammit.) I think they liked me.

Drove back to NC on Friday night, and it was positively eerie to be driving through Durham and having it look like a ghost town. Durham (the whole city of Durham) is the inner city of the region. It's economically depressed for no good reason that anyone can figure out, race is *the* political issue at all times, no matter what else is going on, the police have a reputation for incompetence, etc, etc. Oh, and Duke University is there. This is not coincidence, according to anyone at UNC or NCSU. So, to put a preemptive halt to the looting, arson, and riots that occurred the last time the power went out on a wide scale, Durham instituted a city wide 9pm curfew. No one on the streets, no street lights, no house lights... spooky.

Trees were down *everywhere* (duh, it's why the power's out), big, small, tops, limbs... didn't matter, they were on the ground. Really looks odd.

Got home late Friday, to a 48deg house. Leah was about to go stir crazy, and the cat kept looking at us like "Are you *INSANE*? Turn on the FUCKING HEAT! YOU CAN CONTROL THIS!" Personally, I think it was her innate frustration at not being able to reach the thermostat on a regular basis.

The cat. Not Leah.

Saturday morning we got up and drove to Greensboro, an hour west, for a wedding. While they also had major outages, the hotel was juiced up, so the shindig was on. First though, we had to drive to north Durham, 90 minutes out of our way, because the ^&*(%@#! formal wear store chain lost my tux. Three stores got involved, all thought it was at one of the other stores, and no one had the date right. Nice. Finally got the tux, and found the roads surprisingly good to Greensboro.

We get to Greensboro about 11:30... to find that the massive annual Xmas parade had just started, and that our hotel is on the parade route. An hour and a half and discussions with four groups of police officers later, we finally make it to within four blocks. I'm going to have to haul luggage quickly, across the parade route, since I have only a couple of hours to check in, eat, get cleaned up (no hot water at home... mmmm... nummy) and dressed for photos. I am Not A Happy Camper(tm). In fact, I'm in rare form, yelling, griping, about to freakin' lose it all around.

I pop the rear hatch on the Jeep, and dive in for the bags... but the pneumatics for the hatch are cold, and stop about 3" short of full open. *WHAM*

Slice my scalp open a good inch, and peel back a chunk. (Okay, everyone who was just reading down to the good part about the blood can feel satisfied now, and stop reading... but then you'll miss the tequila.)

A cop standing a bit off hears the thud, followed by my bellow of SON OF A..., and asks if I'm alright. I display my hand covered with blood. She grabs some gauze pads from her squad car as Leah mushes the sticky bits back into place while they're still numb.

So off I go to the hotel, hand to gauze to head, minimal bags in hand. Bless Leah, she hauled the rest of our luggage on her own. I get to the parade route, and get stymied at the front of the crowd by a father with three young children. "Excuse me" I say to him. He glances mildly over his shoulder, scowls, and I swear puts himself more firmly in my way. "EXCUSE me", I state again, this time shoving the bloody wad of gauze in his face and showing him my head wound. He blanches, grabs his kids like I'm going to eat them, and gets out of my way.

So, check into the hotel, clean up (shampoo stings), get dressed, meet with rest of wedding party for photos. Everyone gets a good laugh out of my story... and then someone notices I'm bleeding still. D'oh. Luckily, it stopped after four hours, just before the ceremony.

Ceremony was wonderful, everyone was extremely fun, and then we had dinner. And drinks. Lots and lots of drinks. Somewhere about 10:30 one of the other groomsmen's wives and I decide that tequila is a Good Idea(tm). Two bridesmaids join us. 45 minutes and five shots of tequila *each* later, we start the serious partying on the dance floor. White drunk geeks flopping around to funk. Oh my.

At this point the open bar closes (thank god), but the father of the groom hands out the Cohibas. Good cigar. But sometimes a cigar is still a cigar, as my throat let me know the next morning. *hack* (I don't smoke, but about once every four or five years, the mood strikes... then I'm cured for another four or five years when I'm reminded why I don't smoke.)

After that, we dress down and head to the room party that one of the bridesmaids is throwing. Well, we get there, and she's certainly throwing... but not a party. She opens the door, sticks out her head, and in this *beautiful* stage whisper that only the incredibly drunk can do states to everyone "I'm not wearing any pants! I don't know where they are!" "Well, is anyone in there with you?" "No..." "Then you probably took them off." "Oh, right..." She shuts door, we head to bar.

Get back to room about 3:30, get to bed about 5:30 after spending a couple of hours discussing the state of the world with the porcelain god. (No, no broken blood vessels in my eye this time, thankyouverymuch.)

Wake up at 7. And 8. And maybe 8:30. But definitely 9. Get up, get packed, hurt a lot, hurl a little, get downstairs to morning after banquet brunch.

Where they're serving omlettes.

I realize I'm actually hungry, and there's something about grease, protein and fat that calms the stomach after a bender, so I get an omlette. I sit down next to Leah, and she goes *green*... right before she falls asleep, chin in hand, elbow on table.

I poke her arm, and she wakes up startled... "Ohmigod, I'm That Guest(tm)!" One of the bridesmaids leans over, laughing, and says "Honey, there were about 10 That Guests last night, and the wedding party was at least 9 of them."

Stories of the night before are passed around (Heather, I hope you get that hippopotamus for Christmas that you were asking for at the top of your lungs...), and goodbyes are said.

We get back to Raleigh on Sunday afternoon in a state approximating normal... and find the house now at *thirty*-eight degrees. Oy. Cat resumes thinking we're insane.

Monday at noon we got power back. We are warm, happy, and glad to be home.

Where there's plenty of aspirin.

Ice, talks, and bloodwedding.

Since it seems like the last time I updated this was my whining about the conference I just attended, looks like a good time to add an entry.

As I'm sure anyone with a tv, radio, or ISP knows, NC got hit with a massive ice storm last Wed. 1.8M folks without power at the peak (still at 300k+ tonight). I managed to squeak out of town Wed morning on my way to DC for the conference before the weather got nasty, thankfully.

Leah was stuck at home for two days without power or heat though, while I was comfy and warm in a DC Marriott. Oops. The conference went well, and I'm pretty sure my talk was well received... not only was I literally grabbed on my way back to my seat to discuss some research collaboration possibilities, but a couple of minutes later I got a job offer from someone else. (Not in the NW, dammit.) I think they liked me.

Drove back to NC on Friday night, and it was positively eerie to be driving through Durham and having it look like a ghost town. Durham (the whole city of Durham) is the inner city of the region. It's economically depressed for no good reason that anyone can figure out, race is *the* political issue at all times, no matter what else is going on, the police have a reputation for incompetence, etc, etc. Oh, and Duke University is there. This is not coincidence, according to anyone at UNC or NCSU. So, to put a preemptive halt to the looting, arson, and riots that occurred the last time the power went out on a wide scale, Durham instituted a city wide 9pm curfew. No one on the streets, no street lights, no house lights... spooky.

Trees were down *everywhere* (duh, it's why the power's out), big, small, tops, limbs... didn't matter, they were on the ground. Really looks odd.

Got home late Friday, to a 48deg house. Leah was about to go stir crazy, and the cat kept looking at us like "Are you *INSANE*? Turn on the FUCKING HEAT! YOU CAN CONTROL THIS!" Personally, I think it was her innate frustration at not being able to reach the thermostat on a regular basis.

The cat. Not Leah.

Saturday morning we got up and drove to Greensboro, an hour west, for a wedding. While they also had major outages, the hotel was juiced up, so the shindig was on. First though, we had to drive to north Durham, 90 minutes out of our way, because the ^&*(%@#! formal wear store chain lost my tux. Three stores got involved, all thought it was at one of the other stores, and no one had the date right. Nice. Finally got the tux, and found the roads surprisingly good to Greensboro.

We get to Greensboro about 11:30... to find that the massive annual Xmas parade had just started, and that our hotel is on the parade route. An hour and a half and discussions with four groups of police officers later, we finally make it to within four blocks. I'm going to have to haul luggage quickly, across the parade route, since I have only a couple of hours to check in, eat, get cleaned up (no hot water at home... mmmm... nummy) and dressed for photos. I am Not A Happy Camper(tm). In fact, I'm in rare form, yelling, griping, about to freakin' lose it all around.

I pop the rear hatch on the Jeep, and dive in for the bags... but the pneumatics for the hatch are cold, and stop about 3" short of full open. *WHAM*

Slice my scalp open a good inch, and peel back a chunk. (Okay, everyone who was just reading down to the good part about the blood can feel satisfied now, and stop reading... but then you'll miss the tequila.)

A cop standing a bit off hears the thud, followed by my bellow of SON OF A..., and asks if I'm alright. I display my hand covered with blood. She grabs some gauze pads from her squad car as Leah mushes the sticky bits back into place while they're still numb.

So off I go to the hotel, hand to gauze to head, minimal bags in hand. Bless Leah, she hauled the rest of our luggage on her own. I get to the parade route, and get stymied at the front of the crowd by a father with three young children. "Excuse me" I say to him. He glances mildly over his shoulder, scowls, and I swear puts himself more firmly in my way. "EXCUSE me", I state again, this time shoving the bloody wad of gauze in his face and showing him my head wound. He blanches, grabs his kids like I'm going to eat them, and gets out of my way.

So, check into the hotel, clean up (shampoo stings), get dressed, meet with rest of wedding party for photos. Everyone gets a good laugh out of my story... and then someone notices I'm bleeding still. D'oh. Luckily, it stopped after four hours, just before the ceremony.

Ceremony was wonderful, everyone was extremely fun, and then we had dinner. And drinks. Lots and lots of drinks. Somewhere about 10:30 one of the other groomsmen's wives and I decide that tequila is a Good Idea(tm). Two bridesmaids join us. 45 minutes and five shots of tequila *each* later, we start the serious partying on the dance floor. White drunk geeks flopping around to funk. Oh my.

At this point the open bar closes (thank god), but the father of the groom hands out the Cohibas. Good cigar. But sometimes a cigar is still a cigar, as my throat let me know the next morning. *hack* (I don't smoke, but about once every four or five years, the mood strikes... then I'm cured for another four or five years when I'm reminded why I don't smoke.)

After that, we dress down and head to the room party that one of the bridesmaids is throwing. Well, we get there, and she's certainly throwing... but not a party. She opens the door, sticks out her head, and in this *beautiful* stage whisper that only the incredibly drunk can do states to everyone "I'm not wearing any pants! I don't know where they are!" "Well, is anyone in there with you?" "No..." "Then you probably took them off." "Oh, right..." She shuts door, we head to bar.

Get back to room about 3:30, get to bed about 5:30 after spending a couple of hours discussing the state of the world with the porcelain god. (No, no broken blood vessels in my eye this time, thankyouverymuch.)

Wake up at 7. And 8. And maybe 8:30. But definitely 9. Get up, get packed, hurt a lot, hurl a little, get downstairs to morning after banquet brunch.

Where they're serving omlettes.

I realize I'm actually hungry, and there's something about grease, protein and fat that calms the stomach after a bender, so I get an omlette. I sit down next to Leah, and she goes *green*... right before she falls asleep, chin in hand, elbow on table.

I poke her arm, and she wakes up startled... "Ohmigod, I'm That Guest(tm)!" One of the bridesmaids leans over, laughing, and says "Honey, there were about 10 That Guests last night, and the wedding party was at least 9 of them."

Stories of the night before are passed around (Heather, I hope you get that hippopotamus for Christmas that you were asking for at the top of your lungs...), and goodbyes are said.

We get back to Raleigh on Sunday afternoon in a state approximating normal... and find the house now at *thirty*-eight degrees. Oy. Cat resumes thinking we're insane.

Monday at noon we got power back. We are warm, happy, and glad to be home.

Where there's plenty of aspirin.