Snailr Project (or I am quite stupid)

So there's this blogger. Heaven knows how or why I found her blog, but thank the google demons for it. Her name is Anna Pickard, she's English and lives in San Francisco, and introduced me to Nightlife at the California Academy of Sciences, and it is my one greatest regret that I never had the courage to say umcanwemeetforadrinkmaybeheeI'mnotacreepystalkerIswear!

Why? This, for one. And this for another. That actually caused some extremely painful problems for my consultant friends stuck in boring meetings.

Anyway, I did manage to establish email contact with her, and when she launched this Snailr Project of course I was begging for a postcard. I mean snail mail AND trains!!! It has been a lifelong ambition of mine to take trains across the USA. Then I got one! A postcard, not a train. Or an ambition. I leapt and whirled about the house with joy, and Appa said er why do strange women you meet online keep sending you postcards? I searched and searched and SEARCHED for a scanner...and never found one. Guilt mounted, because well other people were posting their cards! Then last night I realised, I could just um take a photo of it...

That, in case you were wondering, is the front. And this is the back.

If you click you will definitely be able to read it. Also, Anna, I LOVE how you wrote my name! And your handwriting.

It's postcard number 4, and got here pretty darn quick! For those of you who can't/won't click,the text is this:
We have our first lunch on the train! In a formal, outdated routine, we're directed to make a Reservation as the dining steward passes through the train. At the appointed hour we go to the dining car and are seated opposite complete strangers. They don't introduce themselves by name, so we don't either. They're, we think, in their mid-70s, originally from New Jersey, now Southern California. She's short, and short of temper, and short-sighted. And short with the waitress. He is gentle, and determined. He has Alzheimer's/ At one point we all spend 10 minutes trying to help him find the words "Christmas tree."

Anna, I love you even more now that you hyphenate short-sighted.