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Monday, Over the years, I've thought a lot about what comes after we die. I'd pretty much settled on reincarnation as the best bet -- it recycles energy and seems like the most appropriate way for us to learn, grow, and become closer to God. Of course, most of this was abstract thinking until last year, when Mom died. That brought the concept of death, afterlife and what happens there into painful focus. I don't honestly know where Mom is, right now. We can never really know what happens at the end of that bright tunnel, and there's no way to find out, really, until you take that trip yourself. But I like to think that somewhere, a baby with bright, curious eyes and a chortling laugh is learning how to crawl, being watched by parents who love her and smother her with kisses and cuddles at every opportunity. Happy birthday, Mom. 
Well, there's good news and bad news. The good news is, I had a nice flight to London, and the whiskey and ginger ale, three Bailey's and champagne on the flight definitely relaxed me. The bad news is, the TBS travel agency didn't book me a hotel room, so I was only able to reserve a room at the Euston Plaza for two nights. Apparently they screwed up with Lyndon, too -- the hotel was claiming that he only had a room for one night, but he bullied them (as only he could) into giving him a room for the entire week. Maybe I should have had him throw his weight around the reception desk. But screw it -- I'm here, I have a nifty course this week, Tina's currently ensconsed in my room while I'm sharing Lyndon's room (two twin beds -- a bit of a bummer, but it could be worse), and we're about to sample the cuisine of the hotel restaurant. Gotta love London. |
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