Something is wrong with my chair. Our suburban Federated facility is quite nice -- good access to major arteries, a respectable selection of restaurants, and three Starbucks locations within one mile. Nevertheless, my ergonomically designed desk chair has recently taken a turn for the worse.

I first noticed it several months ago, when I returned to my desk after a coffee stop and found (when I sat down) that the chair had descended several inches from the position it had held when I left it some three minutes before. Since that time, I have observed the chair's aberrant behavior on at least ten occasions. It has no predisposition as to time of day -- it has happened at 9:30 AM and at 5:30 PM, Mondays through Fridays, and even a few Saturdays.

But perhaps the root cause is deeper. A few nights ago, I was sitting at one of our admittedly dilapidated kitchen chairs catching up with my mail when the entire thing came crashing to pieces, leaving me sitting on my tailbone on the floor, the natural gas bill still in my hand. And this after I spent all last winter on Weight Watchers, eventually reaching my ideal body mass index of 22.9, where I still am, by the way. (I know what you were thinking.)

Not more than fifteen minutes ago, my desk chair again descended spotaneously. But you know something? I ain't worrying. We haven't lost power today, my feet are not sitting in water, and I plan to eat barbecue for dinner regardless. It's all good.

The dream occurred one night last week. It seems that I was engaged in piloting a small hot air balloon over different parts of the United States, jumping from city to city at will. I recall vividly that the balloon was a small portable craft that could be folded up and transported easily from place to place, even carried in a backpack. The dream sounds odd, indeed, but it was actually quite pleasurable.

On one of my stops, I flew over what was supposed to be Memphis but actually looked more like Atlanta. As with many of my dreams, a sizeable group of friends was on hand, and we all were camped out at a large timberframe lodge somewhere on the outskirts of town. Of course, the group of friends was comprised of people who I know have never met one another, but that made it all the more interesting.

I know from whence this dream stems. I have not traveled much lately, and being for the most part a person who likes being on the road, I think I am feeling a degree of frustration at being in one place for such a long time. Interesting how the mind makes up for what is not happening in real life!

Hannah started high school today! I believe she was actually ready three weeks (months, years?) ago, though. Clothes were laid out, the backpack was packed with all ancillary forms and doo-dads, and the child was set to go. Now the question is am I ready for all this?!

There are worse places to be stuck in the rain than outside Jim Williams' house. Jim Williams, you may recall, was the protagonist of John Berendt's bestseller Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, known affectionately(?) here in Savannah as "The Book". This morning I was out for my Saturday morning walk, and I got as far as JW's elegant home, which fronts leafy Monterey Square, before the rain kicked into high gear.

Here I was, stuck in what I would call a peaceful thunderstorm, with Andrea Bocelli on the iPod and a wet U2 t-shirt, probably looking somewhat reminiscent of a giddy drowned rat. But what better place to be? As I walked the ten or so blocks back to the perpetual sunny disposition and high octane air conditioning of the Marshall House, I found myself playing a game of chicken with the water pouring out of the gutters and down the alleys, across the sidewalks, into the quiet morning streets, and thence into my Nike cross-trainers.

But it could be pouring buckets and I wouldn't mind. This place suits me wonderfully. If someone asked me to plan a city, I think this is how it would materialize. I am smitten with Savannah.

Y'all make sure to have a wonderful weekend.

This post is coming from the road -- Savannah, Georgia, to be exact. The library at the Marshall House offers wireless access and voila -- one can post freely! One thing that has become obvious to me in the last twenty-four hours is that many people have weddings here, and many of these folks have come from afar (read Up Nawth), as evidenced by the good-natured cacophony and abundance of ladies going places together in sundresses.

But what a nice place it is. Beautiful architecture abounds -- in fact, it is easy to take all these spendid buildings for granted, but I'm not letting that happen. We spent yesterday afternoon and evening strolling the area between our hotel and River Street, Savannah's waterfront playground, boasting tons of fun shops and restaurants, cozy bars and bistros, and some extremely decent street musicians. Today, we headed to Fort Pulaski and Tybee Island to see that the area around the city is like. Fort Pulaski makes a nice, quiet trip, and Tybee has that funky look so common to beach towns in the Southeast.

And so, again tonight we will stroll this Southern gem, keeping our eyes and ears open!