18! Wah-waaah.

Whew! I'm back. Actually, I got back Sunday but it took me this long to get here.

What I said in Bitches: I'm back. We're done. I won't be going back to Hartsville TN ever again. Wow, that feels weird. Not sad, really, just strange. That place that's been an integral part of my life for 43 years is now just memories and a random assortment of furniture and stuff. Of course I *can* go back to visit, any time I want, but I know that I won't. I'm done.

To elaborate: Man, I ache all OVER. Moving furniture is a hell of a workout. Solid wood furniture? HEAVY. But it went really well. The guy who bought the huge upright piano showed up on time, got the piano out of the house, and was gone in like twenty minutes, and he didn't mess up anything! The folks at Penske had the truck ready when we got there, which is a first. Cousins who'd promised to help actually showed up and then they, like, *helped*. The Weather Channel threatened us with snow, the first raindrops fell just as we were closing up the truck, and so instead of staying another (planned but now pointless) night, we drove like mad for nine hours to stay ahead of the storm, and got to my place at midnight. It was amazing, how it all worked out perfectly, as if someone (hi, Mom) was running logistics for us.

Our anticipated tearful nostalgic last walkthrough of the house became a five-minute sweep to make sure we didn't leave anything and a quick good-bye. We looked at each other and said, "Are you all right? Yeah, I'm all right. Good, let's go." It's strange, but it was like leaving a hollow empty shell of something that meant a lot to us once upon a time, but now it's just, you know, just another scrubby farm with an old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. It's not Home anymore. Home, for me, is right where I'm sitting now and nowhere else, and this is the first time since I moved out for college that that has been entirely true. I'm not sad. I feel like I've set down a burden, like I'm about to step into the rest of my life as just me, without carrying a Past that has to define me, for better or worse.

Wow, didn't mean to get all Deep. Anyway, I'm back!

I think my trash guys are stupid or willfully lazy. Picked up trash and bags of leaves I put at neighbors'...but left my 4 bags and half of next door neighbor's, as well as some down the street. We've a 5 bag limit normal days, so I just don't know. They've also done things like take half my trash or just my leaves. Oh, but they did take the big branches on top of the bags.

At least the city has an online 311 service. I don't have to talk to anyone.

Guys, I have something like 9 or 10 dozen cookies in my fridge. And have to make another 5 for this weekend. Half are trial batches, and will go to work and the neighbors. And then there are the 5 dozen chocolate espresso ones that will go in to the work party tomorrow. But, really? Kinda of excessive.

18! Wah-waaah.

Needs more Tom Hardy, she says, nodding sagely.

18's cool!

Home, for me, is right where I'm sitting now and nowhere else

That sounds like a good thing, Zen. I'm glad saying goodbye to the house was so easy, and that you are home, now.

ita, your mom sounds awesome. Is it wrong I want to convince D that we need to honeymoon in Jamaica, so I could get a lesson in the fine art of coffee selection and ginger-usage?

(D is Sun Phobic, but I could happily spend a week on the beach exploring rum, coffee and surf.)

sarameg, that is insane cookie making! I need to make some batches of pumpkin cookies while I decorate this weekend, but I think that will be about it for the holiday baking for me.

Needs more Tom Hardy, she says, nodding sagely.

That might be true.

Zen, that's lovely. And I'm glad you are home.

Erin, it's kinda over the top, even for me. To be fair, the chocolate espresso ones make 5 dozen in one batch, and the others are 30 cookies each. I needed to see if the hershey's chocolate holds up as well as the valrhona (which in the raw is much more appealing in color and scent, but the end result so far looks the same. I'll have my chocolate connoisseur at work pass judgement.)

You could send me some cookies, Sara!

Also: 19!

I like cookies.

18! Wah-waaah.

And then there's people like me who just bookmark the page instead of signing up for one more thing.