Not Quite Ready

I remain now in Baltimore, sitting and waiting and yawning in the airport, with a barely deiced plane on its way from Boston to discharge passengers and, thereby emptied, consume us for a return again. I slept four hours last night between the first-ever fully completed crossword charades and the morning's downstairs arrival of recently awoken and much better rested Jolie and Kaia. I never have much luck staying asleep when I know the two little adorable Ganzell girls are up and about and there is coffee to drink.

And I was leaving—why sleep when such so deprives me of the beautiful faces of my friends and of their laughter and of their embraces? Especially in parting, I never have much luck staying away from overwhelming emotion and bittersweet embraces. My recent days have just so many goodbyes. I never have much luck speaking and believing and feeling "see you later." No matter faith, I say "goodbye."

Today was a slow day of eating and packing and coffee and couch moving and goodbye and goodbye and goodbye. Steve, Lucy and I were the final guests to remain, escaping eventually the Boeke-Ganzell Blackhole of Love and Mirth and up the road to Baltimore.

I remain now in Baltimore, waiting and wishing I were not waiting when so much is about to begin but instead nestled happily in some familiar and warm bed. I have packing to do (tomorrow) and I should be sleeping now so that I can pack (tomorrow). And I need a pair of sunglasses and maybe some chinos and certainly a decision concerning the fate, packed or left, of my hiking boots. I never have much luck staying on top of all my little tasks and lists and feeling prepared for the changes in my life. And we all know that luck has nothing whatsoever to do with anything.