When we got to the airport on Friday evening, Mom had an easy time at the ticketing counter, got her bags checked in and got a seat assignment with an hour to spare before takeoff. We scoped out the line of folks waiting to get xrayed and scrutinized and deemed it "not too bad". Mom suggested we all go stand outside in front of baggage claim, (where, coincidentally, smoking was allowed) which we did. Here, then, are the photos from the airport.

Just for a change of pace, I'm going to make you click on each caption to view the photo. I'm having a hard time deciding whether to make the photo come up in a separate window or just having this window display it. Hmmm... I think I'll make it come up in a new window. Let me know if you have any real opinion about this method of doing things. Remember, it's reen@earthling.net.

Oh yeah... and some of the photos are grainy because I didn't use the flash. Using the flash netted better-quality photos but also darker scowls. Fearing retribution, I used the flash sparingly.

Mike has little patience for such things as folks who snap photos without warning.

Whatever it was, it was funny.

Scot gazes at me with an affectionate sort of glare.

With the help of my trusty tripod and the timer feature on the digital camera, I nab a saccharin photo of Scot and I.

Kelly develops a blank stare as Mom holds forth regarding vitamins, sleep and the importance of having a care for one's health.

Probably a continuation of the same discussion, with Mike backing Mom up and an unknown gentleman approaching in the background.

A universally unflattering photo I'll probably catch hell for.

Watching something of interest drive by.

Mom often indicates displeasure in a subject by closing her eyes and lifting her chin while discussing it. I have no idea what Mike's talking about here, but neither Mom nor Kelly appears to approve.

Kissing up to Mom, to the disdainful amusement of my two younger siblings. We'll see who inherets what.

Kelly, explaining something complicated to Mike, probably involving flanges and brackets.

Kelly, explaining something simple to me, probably involving the eventual destination of my camera and the accompanying discomfort.

A mis-aimed and blurry over-the-shoulder shot of Mom on the escalator up from baggage claim.

At this point, everyone has completely had it with my photo-taking. Mike is hiding behind Scot. Scot no longer looks quite so loving, And Mom, you'll notice, is trying (unsuccessfully) to duck below the line of fire.

Kelly and Mom, saying goodbye, under the benevolent gaze of the folks at the gate to the security checkpoint.

Mike and Mom saying their goodbyes.

Mom thanking Scot earnestly for everything he did to make our holiday together more pleasant.

A blurry shot of Mom walking into the security station.

"It's kind of like being at the aquarium!" A shot of Mom through the frosted bulletproof glass that separates passengers from their clingy entourage.

Scot catches me snapping a shot of the audience reaction to Mom's purse being x-rayed...

so I snap another one as soon as he turns back to watch again.

If you ever wondered what Mike's nose looks like from the side, today is your lucky day. If you never wondered, then perhaps you should just skip this one.

Kelly narrowly avoids a similar photographic scrutiny treatment.

After a successful security ordeal during which they did NOT, apparantly, confiscate her nail clippers or her tiny folding scissors, Mom rounds a corner and comes once more into view, going down the last escalator to the gates. We wave our arms frantically from our vantage point behind some clear bullet-proof glass (why the other stuff was frosted, I'll never know), but the lady on the escalator next to Mom is talking to her. We fear she won't see us waving...

but at the last minute, some eerie mom-sense grips her and she and the other lady look up and wave back at us, just seconds before disappearing from view, well and truly away.

Just like last year, Mom's visit was altogether too short. I hope to figure out some way to see her more frequently than once a year.