Nothing like coming home to a five-run rally in the bottom of the 8th and the season's first (of many) (knock wood) triumph over the Yankees (sorry about that, Aunt M).
Nothing like going to An Only Slightly Less Exciting Place and doing nothing. Well, Aunt M thinks we did a lot, but basically we hung out with friends, hung out by ourselves in the bedroom, read, went to the park, drank wine (that would be me), and counted taxis (768--that would be E). Also one shopping mecca that will remain nameless (and was, I must admit, disappointing for both of us, ontologically, though successful, consumeristically), many modes of transportation, and one museum. Despite the fact that there was much more we could have done, but I'll leave it at that.
Nothing like going on vacation and barely paying attention to the news on a terrible news week. Can I just say Virginia Tech, Iraq, abortion, Wolfowitz, and Gonzales and leave it at that? Actually, I might have a post in me about Wolfowitz and Gonzales whose desperate (and, I would predict, hopeless) efforts to hold onto their jobs signal the outrageous hubris of the Bush administration, along with its ongoing collapse. OK, I guess that's about it, and I don't need to write a post, though I will say that outrage is much easier to articulate than grief and despair, or perhaps with outrage I feel like I have something worth saying, whereas my contributions to grief and despair can only be neglible at best, cliched and sentimental at worst.
Seriously, though, M and S have been taking care of the active vacationing, but E and I are rested, relaxed, and home. Blogging will now resume.
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