I miss my home, miss my kids, my wife. But I'm coming home--get on a plane in a couple of hours, and after a useless and maddening 2.5 hour layover on Philly, I'll find myself in my own house, on my own couch, with my family's sleep sounds coming from the back bedrooms.
Besides the fact that I live 3 hours away to teach three days out of every week--and that's hard enough--the extra traveling lately has really got the hectic meter humming.
Two weeks ago it was Chicago for the AWP conference (Associated Writing Programs). Luckily Stef met me in Chicago for that and we got to spend some quality time. But it meant that I found myself at home with the fam. for 2 days out of 10. That sucks. But Chicago is my kinda town, did I mention that? Love it. Great skyline. Great restaurants.
This week it's Houston. staying with my friend David while I take my PhD Oral Exams (passed!!!). This means more time away from Stef and kids. Hate that! And it means more airplanes. Hate that too. But I have grown nostalgic for Houston. Maybe it's the 75-degrees, the greenery, the good food.
Maybe the skyline, another of my favorites:
David and I celebrated after I passed my exams, another sort of "skyline"--kinda. (We didn't drink them all, I swear).
Anyway, I'm leaving for the airport pronto. Back to Michigan, back to my home, back to fam., back to 30-degrees and fresh snow.
Hear that sound? That is the sound of a tumbleweed, tumbleweeding its way across a winter snowscape--between my ears.
Last night I left Detroit for Big Rapids--my weekly commute I've been making all semester. It was snowing on the east side when I left at 6pm and by the time I got to the west side I had Interstate 131 nearly to myself--there were no tracks on the road and I was driving down the middle in 100-yard visibility. Big Rapids is expecting another half-a-foot today and tonight, and here I am sitting at my destination without my gloves, boots, or my winter hat, all of which are sitting home ready to go with me--found out this morning that there is no ice scraper to speak of in my car either. Good times.
This is my brain.
This is my brain, except my brain doesn't have a warm hat (that's "toque" to all you Canucks out there) or a nice set of ear muffs covering it.
I am forgetful. Very forgetful, if you ask Stef. I know this. I have come to accept this.What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, the forgetfulness. The point is that I feel bad for my kids. i have good qualities, many of which they have been handed down--for instance, my loudness; I'm loud and so are they; they will never have trouble being heard (over a jackhammer possibly). But i hope that they get Stef's sense of leaving the house ONCE with everything they need.
For the record, in the interest of full disclosure, b/c it is only through our understanding our flaws fully that we are able to bitch properly about them, I left my faculty parking pass (a hang-tag) back home as well (I am a double hoser).
