Welcome to Phoenix

There were thunderstorms in Phoenix last night, so our flight was delayed. But after spending longer in Houston than I ever hope to, ever, we made it.

There's something about first whiff of a place just as you get off a plane. You're stuck in recirculated, pressurized air for many hours; it inevitably smells like carpet cleaner and breath. And then you step off the plane into the jetway, and there's the smell. You're desensitized to it once you've been breathing the air for a few minutes, but for the first second, it's intimately tied to that place. My strongest experience of that was in Ireland, which smells green-- very strongly green. I don't know how to describe it other than that. Pittsburgh (the new airport, at least, which is farther in the boonies) smells like trees. Boston smells like ocean and industry. If Indianapolis had a smell, I missed it. Phoenix smells like wet rock. At least it did last night.

The cat cam appears to be down, and there's nothing I can do about it from here, since it was running on the Windows machine, which I can't get into remotely. Rats.

Our rental car is a red Mustang. Perfect for Valentine's Day, really.