February 08, 2009

8:19 p.m.

Home

I am home safely after a nonstop flight. It was all quite seamless. None of us got much sleep last night. I had a bad sinus headache, grumbly guts, itchy hands and alarm-clock anxiety. Carol was restless and couldn't get comfortable, and both of us peed gallons through the night. Chris just woke up early and never went back to sleep. It turned out he woke up just about the time I fell asleep.

But! Everything got packed, and we were on time in spite of Carol's sister's habitual lateness. She drove us to the airport since we had no rental car this time. It was a full flight but Chris talked the gatekeepers into letting us board after Zone 2 so that we could stow our guitars. We usually get Zone 4 or later -- this time we had 6, I think. By the time that many people get on board, we often end up having to gate-check the guitars. While it's nice to get an extra checked thing for free, we'd rather have them with us. The temperature and pressure changes aren't good for the wood, and many trips through baggage have knocked and bent the cases a little so they don't close tightly on the ends. I've had a guitar come out ice cold and covered in condensation from the hold. It's better to keep them in sight.

So we snuck on early and had plenty of room. We couldn't get three seats together so I sat by myself at a window. I prefer an aisle because I always have to pee. Finally a large guy sat next to me. I only had to disturb him once. I was so tired... I did faze out for a few minutes with my head against the side, but I can't sleep on a plane so there wasn't any real rest. I did crosswords and listened to my iPod, letting tears come and fall down my cheeks during songs that moved me. (This time it was "Hammond Song," by The Roches. Remember that? I hadn't heard it in a long time. It was iconic for its time, brave, harsh, heartfelt. Raw, lots of loud unison, with sudden big harmonies and dissonance, and a simply brilliant guitar solo. As one friend said, "That's one of the best, worst-produced albums ever made.")

It's cold in Connecticut but above freezing, and much of the snow we left behind has melted. I stopped at Rose's to pick up the new knitting books I'd ordered, and she showed me her new Persian rug they got at auction for cheap. It's beautiful. All that work, all the hand-knotting on a big loom, all that concentration and organization... and they got it for under $300. It's perhaps 80 years old.

And there were new pillow covers, and a new antique cabinet in the bathroom. I petted cats and put apple cider vinegar on my hands (the latest thing -- it's very soothing for the flareups and I'm hopeful that it will have good long term effect), and was told that Pearl was on a date with the postman who had been chatting her up at work. That is until lately when she lost her job, but at least they still went out. Rose and Marc are very much against her current boyfriend, who will not get a job of any kind, but at 30 still wants to live with his parents and forage in their fridge. I understand the date was a success, though I had to leave before she got back.

Rose had made M&M tollhouse cookies and caused me to go home with a few. She also sent me with a bottle of wine, as I had none and the wine stores would be closed today.

I was so happy to be in their kitchen again, even for a short time. This is my life, my life back, everything still here and in place and moving around and evolving and the people I love most talking to one another and having their days and nights like always. Thank God I didn't miss it.

So I got home and opened suitcases but did not unpack yet. I am glad to be home. My big, somewhat messy, burgeoning apartment, with projects everywhere and inspiration in every corner. My plants are all happy, none wilted. I managed some kind of dinner, got mail, examined knitting patterns and found ice cream I'd left in the freezer. My neighbor brought up the mail -- I'd forgotten to have it held -- and there were checks and two nice letters from friends. More notes from Facebook -- the entire music and drama departments from my high school seem to be there! -- and now I'm sated, tired, trying to decide whether to watch a Netflix or knit or plan tomorrow or answer an email or...

I do know I have to start making books pronto. Tomorrow, I suppose. Right now it is very quiet here.