Pulling back on the throttle...

The previous campaign's satellite separated normally so the next campaign has a green light to commence. I leave for the airport in less than 5 hours.

Galina and I are at the Tides Motel in the thriving metropolis of Bayville, New York, not far from the house. The establishment sits across the main drag from the town beach that looks out over Long Island Sound. Back in the day, the Tides had a notorious reputation, but as it just about the only hotel in the area, I don't think it will ever lack customers, of any variety.

I couldn't fall asleep last night, so I experienced a mild NCIS overdose, of episodes from earlier seasons. When I did finally fall into the arms of Morpheus, I slept soundly.

We left Shiloh in the basement of the house overnight, as the management of the Tides does not allow pets and the new renter didn't mind (at least for one night). Dinner last night was at a new place in Glen Cove called the Amalfi (I'll let you guess the cuisine), where Galina and I had an abbreviated dinner. My clam sauce was excellent, by the way.

The plan for the day is to get back to the house and spend a couple of hours putting stuff away in the basement. Then Galina is off for Colorado before the snow flies, and I am off to Kazakhstan, where snow is in the forecast.

Cheers...

. On station at Gate 7...

A fortunate decision to tweak my reservation at the last minute caught an inadvertent show-stopper with my ticket, which managed to get fixed before check-in.

The ying to this yang is the inability - short of attracting unwelcome attention from humorless types here at JFK - to render the overhead boobtubes soundless.

I mean, c'mon! Surely there must be a limit to the number of "news stories" of the Second Coming (as interpreted by CNN, such as the one about the stalwart citizen who mowed Obama's name into his lawn) that one can be expected to endure.

Cheers...

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry