Home sweet home

I write now from the comfort of home. Home home, as I like to distinguish from wherever I am currently living, and the place that remains home no matter where I go. I'm not a Thanksgiving person, but I am a home person, a family person, and it just feels good.

I like dogs at my feet, a pantry and refrigerators - yes, plural - packed to the brim. I like ridiculous conversations that no one else would get. I like how familiar everything is. I even kind of like my twin bed. (But only for the next few days.)

Yes, the slowed pace is already driving me crazy. And I can feel my accent getting thicker, which will only lead to teasing from those not lucky enough to be from here, but oh well. I get homemade rolls, a relish tray, and the Macy's parade. Carolina basketball coverage and lots of hugs. And of course, where else would I get to contend with a (self-appointed) Supreme Overseer and Dictator of the Clover Dinner Roll Distribution* and his attempts to impose a TATT -- trans-Atlantic traitor tax on me -- for missing last year's festivities?

Nowhere, thank goodness.

Welcome home, Bonnie. And thank you, God.



*AKA SODCDRD, AKA my little brother, Joey.