10:13 a.m., Eastern time. If anyone else is awake in the house, this would be the first I'd know about it.

As I grow older, I find myself generally incapable of sleeping late in my own house and completely incapable of sleeping in at other people's houses. At least last night I had the presence of mind to grab one of Suzan's books to take with me, so that I could stay in this room after waking up, entertain myself, and not have to tiptoe into the living room to find something to read.

In some strange, bizarre way, I actually like driving on the freeways of Atlanta. Spaghetti Junction. The Vehicle Accelerator. The Watermelon 400. I can now officially say that I've done 'em all.

Weekends at Brian and Suzan's are always interesting. Always. The conversations are the best part. After all, have you ever had this conversation over good barbecue before?

So here we go, eh? Take a weekend away, a momentary breath from it all, and take a day or so to stand up straight and let your bones and brain cells settle back into their proper places.

It was the right thing to do, despite the boredom and tedium of driving from here to there and back again. A weekend at the Geek Farm, out east of Atlanta, will do just about anyone good.

Atlanta, land of yuppie grocery stores. While here on business I've made the most of my time: learning streets, getting lost, getting found again, and snapping up tasty goodies from the local grocery shops.