home

Ed is on the couch snoring lightly. We’re both wiped. Isis made no fewer than five back and forths last night and after the last one, even Ed thought that the cat was a little off his rocker.

In other words, we had a night full of interruptions.

This semester I have a very set schedule: Monday is reserved for work on lectures; Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays are jam-packed teaching days and on Fridays I do all the work that isn’t teaching related. In other words, I sit through countless meetings until my leg gets sore and I can sit no more. After, I shop for groceries and then boom! -- it’s evening.

If you tell me this seems a tad loaded after a summer off, I'll likely shrug and say -- eh, it's predictable, it’s there, nothing will change the hours much and, on the up side, I know that I will have quiet evenings, that I will have time for yoga (though not today), that I will cook supper and enjoy a glass of wine with it.

The only thing that is unpredictable is Isis. He lends a bit of drama to the schedule and I suppose I have to be grateful that my only bit of drama these weeks is that a cat keeps ringing the doorbell to come in, then meows incessantly to go out. All night long.

In other news: Ed and I have resolved all travel related issues. One truth worth noting (and savoring if you’re on the victorious end) is that when you have two people who care for each other, yes, that, but whose interests run in different directions, then the person with the veto usually prevails.

No, I wont camp my way through Central America this winter.

No, I wont go to all events and celebrations surrounding your wonderful daughter’s wedding.

  

A cool and rainy front moved through our town today and yet it was pleasant enough that we still could do breakfast on the porch.

After, I dusted off my donkey car and rumbled off to work.

[And in case you’re not remembering why it became the 'donkey car,' well, it’s because of this:

And here's a funny bit: a few days back, my girl, noting the donkey, commented – I wouldn't have guessed you're the type to put a political sticker on your fender.

Say what? I didn't! For one thing, there is not much of a fender. When I pasted on that donkey, I was remembering the moment I bought it – in Catalan France this summer. That little animal, ensconced in gold and red stripes is a symbol of the countryside around Sorede. At the time, I didn’t remember that here, it has a different meaning! So be it.]

And now finally I am home. That path to the front (or really back) door still looks good to me. Home. Happily home.