Yes — for those who missed me (all four or five of you) — I’m back.
Though I didn’t want to divulge travel plans prior to leaving — I have a certain paranoia about publicly flagging when I’ll be out of town and country — I suppose it’s now safe to share that our three-person family unit enjoyed a trip to New York and then London, with side-trips via train to Liverpool and Paris.
Along the way, we invested a minor fortune, experiencing first hand the blunt end of the depressed dollar. But as I explained in my last post, we had good reason for the spree, namely, our son’s imminent departure for college. That, plus the dear wife and I will soon celebrate 20 years of marriage. Thus, while I’m usually an unrepentant penny pincher, I’m at peace with the money we spent in this case. It was well worth it and I’d spend it again (if I had it to spend again) without hesitation.
I also have to confess that, during this trip — other than the periodic Blackberry glance to make sure my paying job would be here when we returned — I did not read a damn thing online. Instead, on planes and tranes and in the mornings before sightseeing commenced, I indulged in the old-fashioned printed word. The experience was at once antiquated and invigorating.
Serendipitously, during one of my early such indulgences, I stumbled across this June 15 column by Andrew Sullivan in The Sunday Times. It only served to reinforce my vacationing commitment to “nothing on the Web.”
Later, when I find a few minutes to compile it, I’ll share a summary — ironically, via HTML links — of a dozen or so other items that made an impression on me during my print-only hiatus.
Until then, as great as the time away was, it’s good to be back. And — after a few rough starts at re-acclimating myself to the pace and style of our shared, online universe (e.g., who the hell really cares about this?) — I’m re-discovering that certain Web-reads (case in point) can still hold their own against the jewels residing in Gutenberg’s crown.