We're getting out of town for my upcoming 3-day weekend. Too bad Va. Beach doesn't have any love hotels.
I'm struggling through The Return of the King. OK, technically speaking, I am not struggling through it; I gave up and put it down a week ago. I was only reading little snippets during my commute, and the plot could be summarized thus: Minas Tirith is under siege. "Siege" is not particularly engaging plot when consumed at the rate of 2 pages/day on the Bethesda Metro escalator.
But since putting the book down, I had a Lord of the Rings dream. How nerdy is that? I was myself, but I was a hobbit. I was trekking to Gandalf's house, a cabin in the woods on stilts like a beachhouse. Red and white biplanes appeared at first to be just doing aerobatic tricks, but soon turned menacing, buzzing me and diving at me like strapping WW2 versions of Nazgul. Finally I made it to Gandalf's and before long 2 old friends from my real life showed up.
