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Twenty years ago this week, I was just about to start what I would later refer to as my year in hell. I am very happy that I now have a boy who’s never once caused me heartache or pain. I am also very happy that I’m not half the drama queen I was back then…

Of course, I guess everyone’s a drama queen at age 19…

There’s just not enough romance and drama involved when seeing your loved one off on the train actually means saying goodbye at a bus stop along the Embarcadero. It’s sort of ironic that San Francisco — where mass transit is dogma — has no direct long-distance passenger rail service. Taking Amtrak from SF means taking a bus to the East Bay and THEN getting on a train…

Assuming, of course, that you can get a straight (or consistent) answer from anyone at Amtrak about how to purchase tickets…

Anyway, Mark’s off to Fresno again to clean up the mess caused by a bit of walking garbage named Steven Washburn. Anyone who reminds me that “he’s a human being” should be prepared for a tongue-lashing. I don’t much care what his motives were nor how brutal his childhood may have been…

I hit the road tomorrow so we can have a romantic Valentine’s weekend in a Red Roof Inn…

A few random thoughts for a Thursday evening:

• Proof positive that John Burton has been in office too long. He and Willie Brown need to go off and have their mutual masturbation sessions somewhere else.
• Animal rights terrorists and a machine politician have actually succeeded in making me support something as disgusting as foie gras. Amazing…
• Yes, it’s a holiday whose time has come…
• Speaking of stupid white people, I’m thinking of sending her a wedding invitation…
• Tuesday was my half-birthday. I didn’t get a single present. I guess you’re all waiting for the big four-o in August, right?

I think I’ve finally found the definitive squash casserole recipe. I knew it was going to be good when I saw that it was from the Barclay Cafeteria in Charlotte. I used to love that place, and not just because I could eat there and charge it to my Belk card when I was broke…

I’ve been thinking about Charlotte a lot lately. As a matter of fact, I found the aformentioned recipe by accident while looking to see if the Barclay were still open. I was looking up some of my old haunts and reminiscing about my first years there. But that’s all fodder for another journal entry…

All you need to know now is that Mark and I have set a tentative deadline for moving there. Why? Because we both like Charlotte and we both find SF rather distasteful. Because we want to own a house and not live our lives in an apartment the size of a postage stamp. Because I never want to ride a bus again unless it’s by choice rather than necessity. And because a new health issue involving my mom reminds me that I really want to live closer to my parents again…

It’s made me much happier than I was earlier this week…

Things I’ve learned so far at this week’s training class down by the airport:

• It takes me about 25% less time to drive the twelve miles to the airport than it does to ride the bus less than two miles downtown.
• “Breakfast will be served” does not necessarily mean you shouldn’t eat before leaving home. Nor does “lunch will be served” necessarily mean that you shouldn’t bring something along.
• Your bladder will NEVER be in synch with the break schedule.
• No matter how many times you are assured that the “permit required” signs in the parking lot are strictly for show, you will continue to wonder whether you will have a car to go to at the end of the day.
• Why no, it really WASN’T necessary to do all the pre-work before the class, silly…

Ah, internet radio, where Freur’s Doot Doot is just as exciting and vital as it was in 1983…

Really…