Whippoorwill says, come home, come home

There is one word echoing in my skull's empty caverns, and I'm certain beginning and ending, not to mention filling up, a blog with the word AWESOME doesn't cut it as far as content goes, but I'm really tempted to sum up my trip to Seattle thusly nonetheless regardless (<--that, if my favorite college roomie, henceforth known as Dr. Dre, was reading, would be ticklesome because her boyfriend's most oft-used words for most of our three years rooming together were: thusly, nonetheless and regardless). Southwest Airlines doesn't have pretty planes built after 1980, but they let me preboard so I didn't miss the announcement and I got to pick my own seat, so I forgave them the uncomfortable fake leather seats. Seattle's wretched coldness strengthened my resolve to enjoy the sun while I'm in California even if it gets over 100 for 3 months in a row, and mandated the purchase of a new North Face jacket prior to a baseball game between the two worst teams in some professional league or other on the national level (sports be not my realm of interest). My momma-in-law, the Baroness, provided a two-day getaway vacation to her new landholdings in Eastern Washington, which was in the throes of a beautiful early summer. The view from her expansive deck out over the Yakima river lends the viewer incredible peace--river, miles and miles of gentle hills, small mountains in the distance, stars at night...

Friends were seen, family loved on. My sushi appetite was sated, temporarily.

When I pulled my hot pink suitcase home, however, the most wonderful present awaited me: Sir, home, attached to a land-bound posting so he can be home every night, not on a ship sailing out to sea for two months. No amount of fun and revelry away from home can ever make up for the happiness of coming home to Sir.