My wait for my Amazon Kindle was delayed by an extra two weeks. I don't really think it would have mattered how much earlier I ordered the Kindle, it was fated to be delivered while I was out of the country. A little extra salt in the wound: it was delivered the day I flew out.

But I have it now and I have to say I LOVE it! To fill the time waiting to actually receive the Amazon Kindle I watched videos on YouTube and read reviews. I was prepared for the initial awkwardness of the design and was mindful of where I put my fingers to avoid accidentally flipping pages. I stood on the shoulders of those who went before me and learned from their experience.

My biggest concern was what should I first read on the device? I considered revisiting some favorite book, such as "Time Enough for Love" or "Stranger in a Strange Land," both by the late, great Robert A. Heinlein. But this is a brand new first-wave techware, I argued. I should christen it with something new.

I compromised, as I often do when debating with myself. I bought a new book from an old favorite. I've read everything Larry Niven has published. I've enjoyed most of it, though his later pieces seem a little disjointed ("Ringworld Throne"?). His new collaboration with Edward M. Lerner, "Fleet of Worlds," is a wonderful revisit to an untold tale of Known Space. It seemed the perfect inauguration.

Quick summary of the experience: check the title. I'm really glad I made the investment. I have subscribed to "The Irish Times" and am currently reading "The Great Gatsby." I love the ease of ordering, the immediacy of the delivery, and the quick-checking of unfamiliar words in the included dictionary.

Get one.

Tomorrow we leave for Ireland. Fot my partner Jonathan and I it will be a second trip. But for my mother and little brother it's a first visit.

We can't wait!

Jonathan and I hope to move there one day.

But for now it's nice to just be visiting again.

This year we're taking the Nokia n800 internet tablet along. If all goes well we'll be able to talk to friends and family back home.

I'm a slave to my whims. I'll admit that, not as a first step toward recovery, but with pride. I really enjoy treating myself to whatever catches my eye. I think it probably stems from an early vocational life when it was often a question of eating or paying rent.

No matter, I ordered an Amazon Kindle. This is a little more expensive of a notion, so I didn't allow myself to put in an order the moment it was announced. I'm a slave with limits. Anything over $100 has to be thought about for a while to make sure it's not just  "shiny object" syndrome. If, after a period of time, I still get that excited feeling when I see a picture, or continue to scan blogs and product reviews, I buy.

To that end, I also have a Nokia n800, a Nintendo DS, and a Sony PSP. I enjoy them all.

My time-limiting works. It's why I do not have an iPhone, an iTouch, or a Segue.

So, since clicking the Confirm Order button on Amazon, I have checked my e-mail regularly, several times a day, awaiting that message that my Kindle is shipping.

I'm still waiting.

I'm not getting discouraged. The site and consumer blogs make it clear that I can expect a wait of a month or more. But I want it.

I want it now!

I want to carry several books at the same time in one neat little package.

I want to experience E Ink.

I want to stop cluttering my over-stuffed shelves since I have an inability to get rid of a book once I've read it, no matter how little I might have enjoyed it.

I don't do much with this blog (check the date of the last post for evidence). But I am bursting with anticipation. If I can't hold my new Kindle, I can at least wax on about it.

Big whoop.

I was in Washington DC this week, getting some training in a 3D software program. I was very excited about the class, and I think I saw a lot of what the application offers.

Class was from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. every day. We got an hour for lunch, which gave me just enough time to grab a sandwich and take it back to my hotel. I saw nothing of our nation's capital.

That all ended yesterday. I was determined to not leave until i had seen at lest one landmark. I saw two! At lunch I bolted back to my room, ate half a sandwich, and set off on my quest. Armed with absolutely the worst sense of direction and an infallible ability to get lost I  decided 16th Street would have to intersect the White House. 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, 16th Street — it had to be.

And it was!

For possibly the first time in my life the map actually played into my favor. I was so thrilled I took a picture just to prove I had been there. And if you look, you'll see the Washington Monument scoping up out of the back.

Today I go home. I've scheduled a cab to pick me up at 7 a.m. My alarm was set to go off at 5 a.m.

I've been up since 2 a.m.

I just want to get home.

I took a week of vacation this week to work on my hobbies: stained glass and carving. I do my carving outside where it's easier to clean up the mess. My glass work is done in a small windowless room in the basement (and yes, I get the irony of making art which celebrates light in a room with no access to natural illumination).



Both arts are highly therapeutic for me. After the initial planning and design of the piece is finished, the thinking is pretty well over. Then it's time to sit back (figuratively speaking) and let the two halves of my bicameral brain talk to each other. This is usually very entertaining, and on occasion presents great insights into the complexity of me.



I won't bother to reveal any of the more specific revelations I've had about myself while pursuing my hobbies. Like most people, there are things about myself that I like, things I dislike, and things which I revile.



Something my left brain pointed out to the right this week is the connection of stained glass to literature, for me anyway. (Stay with us now.)



I am a reader. I always have been. From the early days of chewing through board books to my first book without illustrations, I have loved letters. I loved them so much I knew I had to create my own stories. I think I wrote my first book when I was four. It was written in a very specific language with a script that resembled heavy-handed spirals penned in purple and red crayon. I don't remember the plot, but it met with critical acclaim from my mother.



Lord Byron once described the work of John Keats as ". . . a sort of mental masturbation . . ." I think that's what all writing is. Whether or not the writer  ever shares his product with the public, it is done initially for him- or herself, privately, often in a dimly lit room, and seldom talked about in polite circles.



Just like my hobbies.



And, as my left brain pointed out with a touch of right-brained glee, I've added the kink of combining the different forms. I don't just cut glass and assemble the pieces. I tend to tell myself stories at the same time. I write great tomes of erudite observations on the human condition. I tell myself rollicking adventures where the boy always gets the girl in the end. Good always triumphs over evil, and justice is never avoided.



I love stepping back and watching the interplay between the two halves of my brain. Sometimes they come up with interesting arguments. It was the left side which suggested proper pronoun usage: "it" on second reference to the left or right, "I" when indicating a cooperation for cognizant thought between the two. The right side was enthusiastic in its support of this.



But now I believe I've calmed both halves of my brain enough that I can try to go back to sleep. It's 3:45 a.m. and I'm on vacation.