We Are Home

and I'm glad.  The journey back was much better than the journey out - merely a giant, annoying drag, rather than a major trauma that will require years of counselling.  Now we're facing the jetlag and the unpacking. J is a very enthusiastic unpacker but I am realising that he really does not know where a lot of stuff goes in this house. 

I owe about a hundred emails, a thousand comments and a million phone calls. If that's you, I'm really sorry. I'm not ignoring you, I promise. I'm getting there.

And then there's all the stuff still swilling around in my head. I'm struggling with what to write here next, and I can't just blame the jetlag. Amanda recently summed up the feeling well, although some of her reasons are different from mine. If you're in the mood, help me decide what I should squeeze out of my cranium first. Here are your choices of post titles: 

1) I bought my genes at TK Maxx  

2) My life as a celebrity (I was going to write this ages ago, but never got around to it)

3) Maybe it doesn't all even out

I was going to subtitle them with what the posts would actually be about, but if I had that figured out, there'd be no need to write the post, right? 

It's strangely hard to type while jetlagged. I have to keep on backspacing, because all my fine motor skills seem to have deserted me. I think I'd better stop. More later, when my brain is functioning again. For now, here's a photo of me and my boy. 

(And this photo reminds me: GUESS WHAT? All three of us (me and the babies) are getting ukes for our birthdays. I'm tomorrow, they are Saturday. One week, one house, three ukeleles. Bring it on. Now is a good time to be very glad you're not our neighbours).