The house is a wreck, the final packing details: "where should we put the childrens' books?" and "should we take the Brazilian hammock or the REI hammock," and "I know I saw my sun hat just the other day, where the &$*! is it now?" I think the final 10% of all packing sometimes takes the longest.
My friend Cindy compared our situation to giving birth, and in some ways I agree. The last few days of pregnancy are just sheer hell. Then you have a baby and BAM! You are immediately shot into a brand new phase of life.
In a few short hours BAM! we will be launched into the first experimental phase of gypsy-dom.
On a different note, Fender's been testy with Harper lately. Tonight, while I was tucking him in bed he says, "I don't wike Harper anymore."
Me: "oh? why not?"
Fen: "sssee aways messing fings up."
Me: "ya, little babies tend to do that when they start walking..."
Fen: (with the beginning of an impish grin) "Maybe we ssould sell her"
I think we all could use a nice 30 hour road trip...