Re-entry is....

Babs was like, but was it a good vacation? Yes. And I promise tales AND PICTURES galore. But I still need to whine.

I'm in the laundry room flipping a load and this is my soundtrack, a la WJAS (America's Favorite Nostalgia Station):

Yesterday (as in a cover of the Beatles song)
I remember things we used to do (like walking in the park)
I love you Bill (won't you marry me?) AT WHICH POINT I turned the station to anything else. I do believe Satan knew my weak point and was playing the Devil's Radio--isn't that a George Harrison song?

It is, as exemplified by the link. So I'll throw you a bone--on my vacation, the news was EVERYWHERE. I try to avoid it--since 9/11, I have a higher sensitivity. And Fox News, which is what most places seemed to deem the best source, is the worst in yellow journalism. Oh, except for CNN, which had the Paris Hilton interview, then the analysis of the PH interview, and then Larry King came on to talk about the PH interview??? As Sis would say, "Build a bridge and get over it."

Also, this week, we lost an American Icon--Liz Claiborne died on Tuesday. She was 78. I have an eagle eye (unfortunately not for eagles--my sister spotted most of them) for Liz items and inevitably 90% of what I pull off the rack at Red White and Blue or Goodwill is Liz. My sister's suitcase is Liz, so we had a moment of silence for Liz, maker of wonderful clothes and suitcases.

On this vacation, I had the chance to look at my life, which right now is pretty sweet. While Sis can't believe she's 25 and still ringless, I have discovered that after (too) many train wrecks, I am fine to live for today. I'm not ruling out companionship, and I do wish I could start the grandchildren process for my parents yesterday (although I have no desire to have children by myself so it's sort of a science fiction/fantasy situation), but a ring on any finger is not going to solve any of my problems. It will create more. I will be happy one day, I hope, to have such problems. Oh, just nod and smile. Sarah Louise is just venting.

I saw a wolf. No one else saw it. I was sitting in the front seat and we were driving by and I saw it. It was a gray wolf. We couldn't stop. Somehow I'm glad that we didn't get a picture--that no one else saw it--what is it the Native Americans thought about cameras? That they would steal their souls? I had that sense--we weren't shooting buffalo with rifles or killing sheep, but we had to get a picture. The wolf will live in my memory.

This day has been a wash (literally--two loads of laundry and I may later wash the car) so I'm off to the cinema. I'll let you know if Ratituouille (I'm not spelling it!!) is good and what for what ages.

Buh-bye, n'at