Now that is the sign of a true Road Warrior.

"Lord, I was born with a suitcase in my hand...living a life that few could understand. Don't know where I'm going...Don't know where I've been..." Little Big Town

Right now, I'm back for week IV of my San Diego life. It's November and in the 80's. I love it, but must admit, I do (at times) miss my snow flurries and my scarves and my glovies.

I'm fascinated over the fact that I know everything about my second home...errr, hotel here in San Diego. I know that to open the back door you have to slide your card in, lift the door knob up, then pull a little. I know that the parking pass system has changed a bit. I know which staff members to ask for food recommendations...and which to not. I know that the evening desk staff will always help take my boxes to my car, but the morning staffers will. I also know biscuits are available for breakfast on Mon, Wed and Thursday. I love biscuit days.

I even went to the gym last night. Now, wahoo you may say. But I saved extra room in my suitcase for my tennis shoes. I'm thinking that as a reward, I should be able to buy new tennis shoes...or at least a new Ipod. It's always a good time for an upgrade (yes, I am denying the current economic conditions)

I'm also incredibly proud over the fact that I can find my way around the city without the use of my GPS system. I can't even do that in the Bay Area. This is an incredible feat, as I tend to be the one who is ridiculously directionally challenged. I know North is right in front of me, West to the Left and East to the Right....and we all know where south is. That's it. (Even when the assumption is incorrect)

I can't believe the holidays are upon us. The entire Tumbaga clan is arriving in Seattle in various batches. I'm excited to see all of them when I return this Friday. Although the circumstances surrounding this family reunion are grim, I'm glad we are able to come together. I'm pretty excited for the holiday season that is approaching. I think that regardless of the struggles we endure during the year, this season can be filled with a sense of closure, of celebration and of change (but not in the Obama amount).

In other news,

Cowless Count: 43 days. Not so bad...especially since I realized Roast Beef in all its delicious glory is nonetheless, beef.

I'm starting to have the same sentimental feelings toward Pigs. I'm avoiding it if at all possible. I had pork chops last week and they were so good, but I was getting bamboozled by the texture...and the picture of Babe running around in my head.


Don't know what's up with me and my meat situation...maybe I'm coming down with something.