Waking up in Kansas

Do you ever feel like, no matter what you say, it comes out wrong? Somewhere between your mouth and the listener’s ear, the words get twisted into a shape you never intended. You meant to put someone at ease, but instead he looks more uncomfortable than before. You meant to encourage, but you offend. Does this ever happen to you? Yeah. Me neither.

I’m HOME! And I’m so happy to be. I left Friday afternoon, March 4, and I returned to an empty house last night at 10:40. As I type, George is drawing nearer and nearer, the miles of I-20 disappearing beneath the wheels of our old Ford Econoline van. He spent the past ten days in the deserts of New Mexico and West Texas, conducting scientific research by way of digging up worms. (Someone’s gotta do it. Or so I’m told.) This is by far the longest we’ve ever been separated. He’s due here in about 30 minutes, and I’m excited. Very.

I enjoyed all my adventures, and I have much to say about them. However, I can’t launch into it now, because I don’t want to be typing when . . .

Okay, you won’t believe this, but as I wrote that sentence I heard the van door slam. He’s here! Yippee! I have to go hug somebody. Bye.