Interieur

Aaaaaaaaah.  We are back on schedule.  More or less.  If you go backwards for the past three days, you’ll find my current posts have been added back in.  Believe it or not, they were written on the days they’ve been submitted for  and I’m feeling pretty chuffed about being on track with all of this.

Whoo for another interjection, whoo, I am back in a world with internet after a long weekend at the farm.  We woke up this morning, me on the air mattress that I’ve been sleeping on in the living room, and sort of puttered around watching MSNBC and hearing all sorts of hideous tales about woodticks attacking and dumping lyme disease in unsuspecting sleepers.  Then, my grandmother, mother and aunt and I went the fifteen or so minutes to the Cornfield Cafe.  There, we got the kind of very good, very midwestern breakfast food that you could imagine would be served to you in a restaurant that shares space with a hardware store at the intersection of two highways.  This place is a long-time favorite of my grandparents and it’s only a matter of time that we end up there on any trip to Minnesota.  I had pancakes and hashbrowns.  Carbs.  Eh.  Sorry?

Then, once we went to a gift shop that all of us agreed had nice things, but nothing that any of us needed so terribly.  Then, we puttered around, admiring the string peas and the potatoes growing out in my grandfather’s garden.  Then, my aunt and I decided not to wait around another two hours for hotdish, much to my grandmother’s dismay.

I felt sort of sad and strange leaving my parents there.  Tomorrow’s the promised day of meeting relatives and hearing about all their health problems and talking about how good and well-behaved we absent children are.  I don’t envy my parents that at all.  Instead, I’m headed east to do whatever ridiculousness I plan to do without any particular reason behind it. It felt like I was going to leave them in the proverbial dust and I find that sad and strange and awkward, turning around to see them standing there on the porch completely unsure of me and my friends whom they’ve never met and my world of which they have no part.

Sigh.  But, you know, long car rides and a little candy have a tendency to get you over things like making sure you’re always cosseting your parents.  We went to another graveyard and saw a great-great-too far great to know how great grandmother’s gravestone that my aunt actually had repaired.  I don’t feel frightened or weird or too overwhelmed by the energy.  I just know they don’t want to screw with me and I don’t have any malicious intent and it is what it is.  Then we got lost, and then pizza and a margarita which was dang strong, and then bees my uncle keeps and a little cross-eyed kitten named Lorenzo.

I’m here, typing to you, on-time and online and blissfully (for the short time being) unaware of my weight.

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