Welcome back, Mother!

As I was boarding the plane for the final leg of my trip home on Monday evening, the woman behind me turned to her friend and said (as if it were a sudden revelation), “You know, I think I’d prefer NOT to go back to regular life.” And her friend said, “Well, that’s it in a nutshell, isn’t it?”

I think I’m a little more glad to be back to normal than they were (they had been on an 11-day cruise), but I enjoyed every aspect of PhotoNOLA—the class, my classmates, several photography events that I attended in my spare time, getting to explore the French quarter, the warm weather. I was surprised to find myself a little teary as I was driving toward the airport.

I’m exhausted, and still sorting through my photos from the trip, but here are a few I took from my hotel room on my first night in New Orleans.

And one where I got distracted while taking a self-portrait:

Babies, I am FRIED. My long day of travel yesterday and late night doing one last sort through my work/adjusting to the time change caught up to me today after lunch (which featured the best crab cakes I’ve ever eaten, hands down, no contest) and which unfortunately coincided with the time period during which I was supposed to be helping a classmate edit an epic project on Holocaust survivors. Let’s just say that my intellectual energy was not at a high point (sorry John.)

To recap, I’m dying. The bags under my eyes have THEIR OWN BAGS, and yet I have plans to go out with a few ladies from class tonight. And dinner plans have ballooned into dinner/drinks/catching some music.

Oy.

If I don’t make it back from this trip, you’ll know what happened.

On the plus side, I’m posting this from the iPad I bought after spending some quality time at the Apple Store during that unfortunate excursion. Word to the wise: if you haven’t yet discovered the game Angry Birds, DON’T. Unless you want to be on the TV show Intervention.

Anyway, I’m sitting at the airport getting ready to head out to PhotoNOLA. I doubt I’ll be posting much from there, so I’ll catch you on the flip.

Can you believe Gage and I used the sled as an actual mode of transportation the other day? He’s convinced I should be able to pull him all the way to Port Townsend, but, uh…no.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

I am sharpening my knives.

We had a few inches of snow here today, which meant the roads turned into a carnival ride—or maybe I mean a rodeo. A rodeo in which each individual driver was a hapless cowboy/cowgirl trying to stay on that bucking bronco/bull/something-less-than-domesticated-farm-animal for more than eight seconds. NO ONE HERE KNOWS ABOUT TRACTION TIRES, is what I’m saying.

Gage insisted on going to school, so he and I took the bus/walked there and back. We were feeling pretty smug about our clever use of public transit…

…until the bus we were waiting for this afternoon was a no show.

And we had to walk like forty blocks home, and it got dark while we were walking, and our hands and feet and arms and legs fell off.

One of us collapsed in a heap after that, while the other one bounced merrily around the house for several hours before finally going to bed. Guess which one of us did which.

My grandma, my dad’s mom, died this past weekend. She suffered a catastrophic stroke a couple of months ago and was at the point in her health where more life was not necessarily the preferable option—still, it’s hard to say goodbye.

I have lots of fond childhood memories that include her sweet presence, and even now I rarely drink a Diet Pepsi, eat a piece of fudge, take a walk in the woods, or look at a set of house plans without thinking of her.

She was loved, and she will be missed.