Update in training

 Life continues to be rich and full here in Enoughsville.   The turnover of the calendar has me in training -- not just because my running buddies decided we needed to sign up for a half marathon that'll happen right before my birthday, but also because I very literally got on a train.  I bought an Amtrak USA Rail Pass that gives me 10 tickets in 30 days.  

December 30, I boarded my first train that took me to Pittsburgh.

From about midnight that night to the 31st, I travelled from Pittsburgh to Chicago.

In the Chicago terminal, I got to kick around for a while, making origami frogs for a pair of delighted Amish children, who also joined me in running up (and walking down) a giant set of stairs. I was watched over by a pair of stone angels (above those two columns in the right-hand picture).

From Chicago, I took my third train -- this one, all the way to San Francisco.

I think I was in Omaha, Nebraska when the calendar flipped over from 2023 to 2024.  

And after two more days of amazing views (not amazing photos, but amazing views),
I arrived in San Francisco just in time for the big math meetings.

The train from Chicago to California is not only a lot more picturesque than the one down the East Coast to Florida, but also a lot quieter.  The fact that there's an observation car really helps, because at night, people who wanted to talk could (and were strongly encouraged to) go there, so the rest of us could sleep.  I had two different seating companions, both of whom were mostly quiet like me, but who were also fascinating when they weren't quiet.  The first was a former Navy nurse who now has many grandchildren and even great grandchildren; the second was a young man who was getting ready to go to college where he hoped to study to become a funeral director.  ("I know that sounds very odd," he told me, "but my girlfriend is interested in this, and I know the job won't be taken over by AI").  

While I was traveling across the country, Inkling and her friends celebrated their own ball drop.  It wasn't the stately lowering that you see with other balls on TV or at large outdoor gatherings -- we both agree that calling those "drops" is a disappointing name.  No, she and her friends dropped a ball.

10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...

. . . Happy New Year!

Actually, the ball drop wasn't quite as perfect as those pictures represent. She says, 

"We had our own ball drop at the party I went to last night

And our ball didn't slowly descend-- it dropped with a solid thud.  

(A little too solid, actually... We had to throw it a few times to get it to break open because our ball was also a piñata!)"

"Mama, thank you for teaching me to make an address label piñata!"

Yuppers, those address labels we get (unsolicited, but from charities trying to solicit us) can be put to good use!

At any rate, back to San Francisco.  The math meetings have been super lovely.  I gave a talk, led a workshop, and participated in a panel.  I attended a bunch of other great talks.  I'm saturated with new directions to take my research in, new contacts that I've made, former contacts that I got to reconnect with, . . .  it's been awesome.  

A set of stairs I love.

Here's the most story-worthy thing that happened, though:  losing my phone!  I'd taken it out at lunchtime while I was sitting on a bench in a park, and somehow I didn't notice it was gone until almost 5 p.m.   I like to think I don't really care about my phone, but here on the other side of the country from my home, it's my connection to everyone (and to my train tickets, and all my two-step verification things . . . ).  Naturally, I tried not to freak while nonetheless feeling quite panicky.  I retraced my steps; I asked the hotel and the conference center if anyone had turned in a phone (no, sorry), and I retraced my steps again.

When I was finally back in my room with wifi, I checked on my computer to see if I'd set up "FindMyPhone" -- I knew it had been on my to-do list for a while, and couldn't remember whether I'd done it.  To my surprise and delight, not only had I set it up (thank you, former me!), but the app said that it located my phone, and that it was still right near that bench where I'd taken it out!  

So, back I went to the park and the bench. No sign of it. I asked some passers by to call it, and they did, but we couldn't hear any ringing. A dude in an orange vest asked if I needed help, and since I wasn't familiar with the orange jackets I waved him off, but he was concerned enough he asked again. I explained that "Find my phone" had said my phone was somewhere in this plaza, but I couldn't find it. The minute he asked, "was it a red phone?", I knew everything was going to be okay.

The orange vest people are "Block Ambassadors"; the San Francisco tourist district hires them to be of assistance to tourists and other visitors -- like me! Cooper (that was the guy's name) called a bunch of people, and we eventually found the office it had been turned in at. He was helpful and friendly and calm the whole time. Another Block Ambassador named Zach chipped in and helped us find the exact spot of the office, which was right around the corner from that bench.  The app nailed the correct location to within about 20 feet.

I told Cooper that if I adopt any more kids,
I'm naming the next one after him.
I took this photo with my phone, of course:
Cooper and Zach are the reason I have it back.

What's next?  I'm going to rest my brain after a really productive and energizing (but also draining, temporarily) conference.  I'll spend one more day in San Francisco, hopefully meeting up with an author I'm a huge fan of, and then tomorrow night I'll board a train bound for Seattle.

And that's the news from our family, which continues to be wealthy in our adventures.  May you and yours turn on your "find my phone" apps, and be similarly prosperous.