Well, the two-week Southern Cali vacation is over- Darin and I head back up to the Pacific Northwest today. And not a moment too soon! I miss the hot days and cool nights, the best coffee in North America, the crisp air, the occasional cloudy sky... By the way, cloudy days in the PN are gorgeous, not depressing- I've called them "Poet's Days" since I was nine.
One thing I am not looking forward to? Seeing Dad in his underwear.
It's inevitable. There hasn't been a single visit without seeing my pasty father in his sick, white, thinning briefs. The question is, when? When I collect clean clothes from the dryer? A bathroom visit at 3 am? My morning coffee? Nothing is safe anymore, I tell you!
I must remember not to raise my voice after he goes to bed. If anything comes in the way between Dad and the Sandman, take warning sailor. A naked monster will emerge, grunting exclamations: "Uh? Ugh? I'm trying to sleep! Uh!"
I'll keep you posted.
On a fully-clothed note, my uncle gave me an exquisite amber necklace in gratitude for house and dog-sitting while he was in Poland. He doesn't surprise me with the unwelcome sights of hairless thighs and saggy rears.