Only 10 days now 'til I pass out many meaningful kisses to a handful of extremely beloved precious faces, tie my shoes, wave bye-bye, and grab a seat on the Bart. I'll put in an hour twenty of abdominal butterfly study on the train to SFO, where I plan to stand in lines interminably. There, at some point, hopefully within a reasonable window of expected timeliness, I shall finally catch some air that will buffet me, gently please and thank-you, across many thousands of miles to Venice, Italy. Well, sort of. First I blow into Dallas Fort Worth. Then London Gatwick. Then, eventually, a million centuries later, into (or, preferably, onto a tarmac located at) Marco Polo International Airport - a one hour Alilaguna boat ride to Venice. Although I will probably -- no, definitely --
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