Exit wounds

Not that I've been shot. It's just the pin prick-sized scabs on my hand just healed from helping arrange roses at the TSC volunteer banquet--and that was about two weeks ago. And there's a fading bruise on my shin from when I ran into Juanita's granny cart containing her Christmas tree. And, well, the gap in my heart whenever I leave NYC. And, well, well, it's time. I'm done. Time to shut down the blog because there are no more travels.

Nancy (of Richland) asked me today if I plan to be temporary for much longer. And it's like: yes, I not only plan to be temporary, I AM temporary. And eternal. Confusing right? It's the dot, not the line--according to Randy Alcorn. But no, I want to be Somewhere. I don't like being elsewhere. I like location, I just don't like fixed location. (A big thank you to Nancy for the lovely lunch and chat!!)

My dad said I need to own things to teach me responsibility. Like a computer. Or a car. Using things that don't belong to me, I don't learn to take care of them. I didn't get mad, visibly. Certainly my internal resume ticker was flashing: I just took care of my sister's FOUR kids for a week! My Linkedin recommendations rock! I bought and installed RAM for your computer...Oh hollow justification.

Anyway. Here's some pictures to lighten the mood of this post.

Some of my ex-colleagues at the Deutsch department party I crashed.

Kristin and Linsey prepping lemon tart.

Closeup of tart.

Juanita and the tree. :)