No, there isn't a time change between here and Indiana. However, I'm still pretty wiped out - and I slept for a looooong time last night, as did Norah, who declined any and all opportunities to nap yesterday. We went through three airports, two planes, and one cranky airplane-row-mate who was forced to sit with us because he checked in late. Here is an important fact for those of you who travel child-free and would like to remain that way for the duration of your flight: DON'T CHECK IN LATE, because you will inevitably be left with the last seat on the plane, which will inevitably be next to a frazzled, slightly sweaty woman with a baby whose main goals for the next hour are to put her fingers into your ear at least three times and pluck each of your arm hairs, one at a time, from the arm sticking out from your short-sleeved dress shirt.
[Well if you'd just control your child...! you're all screaming at me, but let's switch places here for a minute, and say that if YOU had to pack a baby in a sling through approximately eight miles of terminal, strap her to a food court seat and feed her wiggly ass, and maintain your cool so that no one else got hysterical, YOU would want to get on the plane, sit her on your lap, turn your face away, and drown quietly in a $9 bloody mary TOO.]
Really, I'm exaggerating, and the trip was fine. Norah, although she's a wiggler of the first order, is an excellent flier - she tempers her arm-hair-plucking with that charming little "Heeey, but I'm precious!" smile, and nine times out of ten we get away with a lot of badness. She rode rather peacefully in the ultra sexy new sling I made with Adrienne, and it was pretty easy to boost her out, trip lightly through the security scanner, and then boost her back in. We didn't even take the stroller, which was probably for the best, considering the sprinting we had to do to make our connection. I almost certainly would have mowed down at least 12 other people.
Home was... home. Since we were only there for about two days, I was pretty busy, what with cleaning out my parents' house and making five, yes, FIVE trips to Wal-Mart for boxes and various other necessities. (LAH: I looked for your hubs while I was there, and didn't see him - is it possible that the birds ate him?) The weird thing was that I ran into two high school boyfriends, one in a downtown grocery and one that I literally smacked into coming out of Wal-Mart the third time. I haven't seen either of these guys for nine years, so to see them both within 12 hours of each other was a tad unsettling, in that "let's remind you of the days when your hair was below your shoulderblades and you wore entirely too much plaid flannel" way. Even more surreal was the fact that right before going out, I had sorted through a drawer of old pictures, including some of Old Boyfriend #1 and me at a certain pool party, which shall remain part of history... and then there he was reaching for his deli order in much the same way that he used to reach for my bikini string, musician fingers curled down and thumb up.
It is just always awkward when history flares up and smacks you around, especially when you haven't showered and your hair is flat and you're wearing a dirty sweatshirt. But we smiled anyway, and we small-talked, and we walked out together, and off he went, la de da.
Now that we've explored that little piece of my past, here are some photos for your viewing pleasure...
Baby Sleeps-No-More on the plane, next to our non-cranky row buddy, whose daughter turned out to be married to a guy my dad knows at home. Spooooky.Taking a bath in the kitchen sink in my old room (which is more like an efficiency apartment, really)
More fun can be found on Flickr, but not today, as I have 54 tons of laundry and dishes to do. Why is it that when I'm not here, it gets just as messy? Two guesses, and the first one don't count...