I’m back home.

And back here, in my little space. Big thanks to Ryan, who at least kept some pictures going while I took a long, unplanned break from blogging. And when I say break, I don’t just mean from writing. I definitely took a break from reading, too, because google reader says I have over 400 unread posts to catch up on. Ha. Fat chance!

What an adventure this summer was. The first days of my time back in Madrid are hazy June memories. That was early summer, and now it’s definitely the end of the season. In between, trips to Maine, Florida, back to Maine, back to Madrid, and to Long Island made for lots of newer memories. Fun memories. Clam festivals, Red Sox hats in Papa’s den, riotous laughter with cousin Cam, first tastes of calamari, dinner at friends’ houses every night we were in Madrid, theater outings, tennis, wedding showers, anniversary celebrations, eating too much at Aunt Judy’s, building sand castles at the beach, mad-dashes onto subways with big bellies and toddlers on hips, trying on perfect wedding dresses, pulling off surprise parties, and taking three days and lots of flight cancellations to finally get home.


That was a summer.

Coming home after two months away was a strange feeling. The last time I did such a thing, I was 16. I spent two months in India, and when I came back, I felt pretty lost. (And rich, but that’s beside the point.) Tuesday afternoon, when I opened the door, the kitchen was bigger than I’d remembered…and strange. I suddenly wondered where everything was kept, like I was a stranger in my own house.

For the record, such disoriented feelings are quickly cured by a full day spent unpacking. I knew there must be some purpose in that much-hated chore.

And now there’s just the overwhelming question of where to begin… Obviously the house needs to be thoroughly de-spidered and otherwise cleaned. That conveniently coincides with nesting instincts that have begun to kick in (at least, in the mental arena; I haven’t actually experienced much extra energy to carry out my ambitious plans.) Bedrooms need to be rearranged, and clothing needs to be sorted out. I need to work on more routine for the sake of Jameson. Yes, there’s all of that, too: what do I need to work on with him before a new baby makes their entrance? (More on that in future posts.) And routine for me: time to revamp and get excited about meal planning and daily grind that equals an inviting and restful home.

So yes, time to get back into the swing of things.

And in closing, *sigh*, I miss my mom.

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