away, and home again

After nine days of travel and a six-hour flight crammed next to two horribly ignorant women who loudly complained that the passenger behind them smelled bad because "she was from India," I came home last night to find my car had been broken into and prowled through. (Thankfully, there was no damage, and nothing was missing, but I'm creeped out. Also, my car battery is dead.) 

And then Mari projectile-vomited off of the kitchen table. And then I found five other vomits in the bedroom, including the largest hairball I have ever seen in my entire life. 

In other words, I spent the evening cleaning puke and feeling vulnerable.

The sane person would ask: Why travel so much? (Followed by: Why the hell do you have three cats?)

Because Sacramento. Where the babies have some kind of hypnotic baby smell that makes even the most stalwart cat lady want to snuggle them.

And the toddlers have ... well.

Sometimes I question my brother's child-rearing techniques.

The ramen is otherworldly.

Gluten-free soy milk ramen at Shoki.

And there is sun. And a pool that is actually outdoors. And isn't crammed full of people passive-aggressively circle-swimming.

The bike rides are flat.

Fifty miles with someone I adore.

And the ice cream from Gunther's is the best thing ever.

Especially post-ride, with a side of hot dog.

Because western New Jersey. Where the crickets sing and the table is piled full of produce straight from the garden and the humidity builds until the sky breaks in a burst of thunder and lightning. But this kitten doesn't care -- he's too busy biting fingers and attacking toes.

Kate's new little, Loki.

And the Renaissance Faire is overtaken by pirates because who cares about historical accuracy when you can dress like a pirate. At least there is regular jousting. (As if I am a jousting expert.)

And there is corn. So much corn.

One hundred ears of solitude shucking.

Because New York. Where it is Fashion Week, and the Hilton sisters take the Really Long Way to their car so people can take photos of them and make them feel like they are still relevant.

Like Barbies, in real life.

And there are so many good things to eat and drink.

Go to Dovetail.

And I look up and fall in love again and again with a city that has always meant so much to me because it reminds me of the one I lost but will never stop loving. 

That skyline in every direction, though.

And that feeling of seeing something for the first time.

Morning runs in the city.

Travel is bittersweet. Part of me wants to keep going, part of me wants to come home. But when I do open that door and climb those stairs and find these three, I think that maybe cleaning so much barf is really not that bad.

At least there was no revenge poo. This time.