Home

The very word 'home' is making me bones ache.

We got home late yesterday afternoon and I did nothing but soak in the tub for a good long while, washing the last remnant of smoke off my body.
I have to admit, I like smelling like bacon.

I slept like a bear in hibernation last night - and only had odd dreams about merchandising Christmas decor at the Pier One, and tracking Abe Vigoda, who was a serial killer, and I was a detective.  I really need to look into this serial killer obsession I have.

I have to say that the camping trip was a great success, and this trip was one of my favorites.

Even though it was unseasonably cold and wet at times.

Even though the fish weren't biting.

Even though we had heater wars everynight, and I have a black eye to prove it.

I nearly gouged my eye out on the corner of the counter whilst searching in a stupor of slumber for the heater in the dark.

Like the old saying goes - it's all fun and games til someone loses an eye.

Amen.

I often question why I leave home when I feel so ding danged happy to return.  Maybe that's why I leave?  It makes me realize how I love it here?

I worried about the 'girls', about the Italian Mob, about the cats, Maude, about the baby chicken, about the flowers being bitten by a frost - about the house still standing.

I wondered how I'd feel if I came home to a smoldering pile of rubble.

It makes me realize how incredibly attached I am to this little plot of land I call home.

Perhaps too attached.

Oh, you wouldn't believe what I've got up in my sleeve now.

Glenco just might be on board.

It's called Micro houses. 

I'll say no more - for now.

For now, I'm happy as a bug in a rug to be home - to be restoring order, to be simmering soup and wearing fuzzy socks and petting the cat that felt jilted while we were gone.

I'm happy.

I think I'd be even happier if I had this pot.

I'm a little obsessed with it.

In our Walmart run (we ALWAYS make a Walmart run on camping trips) I saw this pot on the clearance rack, all up in a dented box for $35.  Because I'm still in my 'buy nothing new' pledge that I made this January, (and I've done quite well, not perfect, but good)  I passed it by and my friend bought it.

I went to bed thinking about that pot.

I woke up thinking about that pot.

Must. Have. That. Pot.

My winter happiness may hinge on that pot.

I wish it weren't so.

I really wish it weren't so.

But I think it might be.

And that makes me feel shallow and materialistic.

And then I feel the need to apologize.

Cause I think I'm gonna buy that pot.

Amen.