10/18/01:Every morning, I treat myself to a fancy-schmancy cup of coffee. At Accenture, we have the free coffee, and then we have the Java City coffee. Java City has this mocha concoction which is totally not sweet, but just really flavorful and righteous. So I get that every morning. The morning of 10/9/01, the barista lady must have been thinking about something else as she made it, because instead of the regular single-shot of espresso that goes in there, she must have put in about 6.02x1023 shots extra. It was a lot of fookin' espresso. So, you can imagine Cornholio Jill unable to sit still, vibrating, idling, feet tapping, fingers rapping, typing a thousand MPH, yadda yadda. If you've even been severely overcaffeinated, you also know that slightly sick-stomach feeling, like the feeling that something absolutely terrible is going to happen.

This is not how I needed to be feeling on the day I was to fly across the country.

So all day long I was convinced my plane was going to be hijacked and crashed into the Hoover Dam. I don't know how I got that thought in my head, but gol-darnit, it was stayin'. :-) The folks at work were very cool and saying that I was gonna be fine and that they "didn't feel it in the Force" that I was going down. Either way, I was relatively inconsolable, and exceptionally jittery.

May I just interject here that I just learned the <sup> </sup> tags just now, to make that lovely superscipt in the mole up there. Who's yer daddy??

[Note: "Who's yer momma" sounds really retarded. But I completely acknowledge that I do not have male genetalia. Though I understand for those who have not verified their existence first-hand, there still is some debate to that fact.] I'd better quit before this gets even uglier...

*Ahem!*

Anyhoo, so I leave work around 2:00pm and Jason kindly takes me to the airport, where I proceed to bitch at him about his driving, because I am, still, way overcaffeinated. It hasn't even come close to wearing off. I get to the airport, check in my bags (at the curb, no less) and I proceed to the gate. But first I must cross the security checkpoint.

So I round the corner to where I would first spot the XRay machines, and then my eyes slooooowwwwwllly follow the line of people standing about 9872639876 miles down the hallway, waiting in line for said XRay machine. Unreal. So I walk to the back of the line, and I am still very nervous. I am ashamed to admit that I scanned the line for anyone of middle-eastern descent. There actually was one guy, who was clearly American in every way, and he had virtually every inch of his body decorated with some type of American flag. The poor guy felt like he had to visually prove to everyone that he wasn't gonna blow up the plane. I really felt bad for him, because people shot him dirty looks anyway. I smiled at the guy.

Then, who appears from out from in front of the line but five gloriously young, healthy male specimens decked out in full camo, bearing many weapons and generally having their shit very much together. Hubba hubba... Normally I go for the slightly-chubby computer dork type, but I'll tell you... for those two hours I stood in line, I was definitely a fan of the virile, smooth-skinned, ripped, buff hotties that graced my presence and made the two hour wait fly by. My hormonal rush must have used up every last drop of caffeine, for I was instantly relaxed. *Whew!* (Check, please!)

I got through the XRay scan no problem, and was very pleased that they took the time to pat down and wand-over every human, regardless of whether or not they set off the metal detector. I really felt like they genuinely were checking out every person thoroughly, and that it wasn't just some dog and pony show. So that was good.

I landed in Arizona after an uneventful flight. When I got in my rental car and started driving out of the airport, I started singing at the top of my lungs because I was just so happy to be there. Every time I visit, I am surprised at how much I miss it. (Hey, that rhymes!) And this was before I saw or spoke to any of my friends out there.. I just missed the terrain, the highways, the Yams, Camelback Mountain; I even missed the frikkin' airport for christsakes.

Anyway, I'll spare you all the details of the trip, but suffice it to say that I had an awesome time and loved every minute I was out there, except the good-byes, of course. Whenever I leave after a visit, I hate myself for even bothering going out in the first place, because saying goodbye to everyone is absolute torture. Especially in light of the whole 9/11/01 thing, it makes me realize how precious everyone is to me, and how truly blessed I am that they are my friends. It became very important to me to tell each one of them how much they mean to me and how much I love them. And I know I didn't do as good a job as I should have.

You know, it still blows my mind that people aren't like, "Jill who?" after these three years.

In other news, it never fails that whenever I visit Arizona, I have some weird skin affliction. I pride myself on having pretty nice skin actually. Maybe I stress out when I think about flying, or maybe it's the humidity change, or maybe I'm allergic to something somewhere, but the last three times I've been out there, my face has exploded in a vomitose mosaic of death. "Hi. I'm Jill. You haven't seen me for a year. I'm a leper. Good to see you." And naturally, the day after I'm home, my skin is lovely and clear again. If I had a digital camera, I would take a picture to prove it. Honest. I'm really not an infectious mass of cover-up. I swear.

Annnnnnnnnnyyyyyywaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy, the concert went very well. I understand we taped it, and I'm looking forward to hearing how it sounded to the audience. Some of the smaller-group stuff was really wonderful. I think the "In Te Domine Speravi" probably sounded pretty cool, as did "Mille Regretz." And the Ave Maria" and "Nimphes des Bois" felt really good, so I'm hoping they sounded that good, too. "Nimphes des bois" is one of the most moving texts I have ever read/sung; it's a euology to Johannes Ockhegem, who most believe was Josquin's teacher and pal. The tune is just unreal. How friggin' cool is it that here, in the 21st century, we're singing some tune that some dude wrote 600 years ago? If I can dig up the program notes, I'll post the translation here. It's really so very powerful.

I just realized that I didn't have any dinner yet. I had a stupid meeting after work tonight that went until 7:30, so I didn't get home until 8, and then I checked my email, yadda yadda yadda. So, it's 10:00pm (have you hugged your child today?), and I'm starving my head off. But alas, it's too late to eat. Mayhaps I will stroll downstairs and pour myself a big-ass glass of H20, swallow some vitamins, do some yoga and put myself to bed.

Sounds like a plan.

Until next time...