Did you miss me?

I know, your ritual of checking in on my opinions and complaints everyday was interrupted by a bad, bad disc. Bad disc! Bad! That bad disc just choked the poor little server, and no one was around to give it the Heimlich — after all, it’s locked into a little cage in a room in Stockton, California… in the wee hours of Sunday morning, no less. (Obligingly, Jann drove from San Francisco to Stockton today to fix it.)
I guess the biggest casualty was my own wits — not being able to check my e-mail nor post about my jaunt to Rehoboth Beach for dinner with Ian. Yup, just dinner. It was fun.
Weirdly — what are the odds of this — we sat at a table right next to John, who I knew, oh, about 15 years ago when I lived in Reston, Virginia. He hung out with an eclectic crowd — the type who are all suburban privileged kids yet wear black and bemoan their outcast state. I kind of lived on the periphery of that crowd, partially because I was fascinated and partially because I had a crush on a girl named Jen.
Anyway, Ian and I drove 2-1/2 hours to Rehoboth, got our feet wet in the Atlantic Ocean, then had dinner. If we had arrived 15 minutes later, we wouldn’t have run into John.
Weird, eh?
I told you about Ian before, didn’t I? Woof.
Here’s the proof of our little escapade: Ian at the Atlantic.