Well, that was a trip. Three days that turned into four, a funeral, a barbecue, lots of thoughts of fathers, dead and alive, an unexpected car repair, and a baby who is awesome and demanding and adorable.
We are home, we have pizza, all the living things are alive if not totally content, and the Pook is wearing clean jammies and a cloth diaper and sucking on her fingers and talking to Iron Man.
I’m wiped out. I said, as I parked the car, “can I be done now, and collapse? Oh, no, I can’t, because I HAVE TO GO TO WORK TOMORROW.”
SUNY Potsdam, you’re on notice: I’ll be there. But I make no promises about my seriousness, my efficacy, or my ability to process language.