Yesterday was quite eventful-Easter brunch at my sisters and brother-in-law’s house in Burke. A small gathering of their friends and family, including myself and mom. They were all people who I was vaguely familiar with from sister’s wedding last May. It was nice to spend a little more time getting to know them, although I was of course fifth-wheeling it.

There was a lot of food and drink. My brother-in-law, has a taste for finer spirits and that lot-Far more refined and traveled than myself with my basics of whiskey and rum. He unveiled a scotch of some older vintage. I had never had scotch before. That was some highly potent stuff. Just sniffing it was a challenge. A small taste completely shocked me. I now understand why it is usually served on the rocks- Needs much dilution.

The party soon came to an end as people slowly departed. I took mother back to our basement apartment in Fairfax. After while, served her dinner, and went out again with the ultimate goal of driving back the short distance to my sisters place to watch the latest episode of Game of Thrones with them.

Mother motioned heavily for me to stay or at least leave a little later, but I had my reason to leave early.

Yes, it was Easter Sunday, which always falls on the third Sunday of the April-A very Christian religious holiday that I definitely don’t need brush upon-However, the date was 4.20. No-I don’t mean to speak of marijuana celebration either.

4.20.2012 is the date that my grandfather had died.

I didn’t tell anyone at the party, nor call anyone, or leave note on my social media. The day was pleasant enough-Did not want to ruin it. For the few moments alone that I had, I did my own personal acknowledgement of grandpa’s passing-What has become my own personal tradition:

I got a hot dog.

More precisely, I got hot dog from 7-Eleven, a quarter-pound Big Bite with mayo, relish, and mustard.

Grandpa liked his hot dogs, and those were his usual toppings. Back in Paradise we had a place where he’d normally get his good hot dog two or three times a month, and 7-Eleven was always the go-to in case that place (which was also an ice cream and candy shop) was closed-And until I can locate a proper hot dog stand or restaurant here in VA, it shall remain. No complaints.

So that has become my tradition, my personal honoring of Grandpa-A small meal that he loved, that always put a smile on his face. And for that moment,  I can reflect on better times.

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The first two weeks here in Virginia have been a blur. I finally have a sort of working schedule on when I can write these blogs-Among other things. Of course it all revolves around care for my mother.

There is much to tell.

I am at the Terminal B/C food court at Philadelphia International Airport. I just tried Chick-fil-A for the first time ever. It was a little overpriced-Especially considering that I had a ten dollar gift card that they couldn’t accept because it’s not part of the regular franchise stores-But it, the food, it wasn’t bad. Got the four piece strip meal. Liked the fries. Liked the strips, liked their official brand (honey mustard) sauce; didn’t like their runny buffalo hot sauce.

Now the reason I’m writing about this experience, simply put, I missed my connecting flight to Washington, D.C… yeah. Stuck here in Philly for the better part of four hours waiting for another flight. The reason why I missed it is because of this mornings flight from SFO. According to the captain they were having trouble fueling the plane and that delayed us a good fifteen-to-twenty minutes. My connecting flight in Philadelphia was only a 35-40 minute layover, and I figured it shouldn’t be too difficult to make the connecting flight to DCA because the plane would drop us off only 3 gates away. And so I figured the delay wouldn’t make much of a difference.

I was wrong. I learned today that even tho a common flight like mine is run like clockwork virtually every day, One should always expect the unexpected. 

Because of the delay, when my flight landed, it was rerouted to a different terminal-Terminal A, which is on the other side of the airport from Terminal C (where it was supposed to go). It wouldn’t be just a simple saunter on down a couple gates-Nope it was a very long power walk and jog across three BUSY terminals including very long halls of shops and restaurants. Obviously, I didn’t make it and here I am.

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This morning I started a post while waiting to board at SFO. It was very brief, as I quickly ran out of time. In it, I stated how this move, with all it’s sacrifice and trials, how I was basically leaving what was familiar all my life-How it truly felt so anti-climactic? 

Well if this event is any indicator, my life, post California is going to be …very …challenging.