The plane didn't crash.
She has her diploma.
Nobody killed anybody. (Although it was close, a time or two.)
Your postcards are in the mail. Some of them will bear Oakland postmarks. Sorry.
We never made it to Taco Time, this trip, although the nice folks at Azteca -- both the Southcenter and the Burien locations -- are doubtless composing a thank you note to Secra and Ð®åƒ±êrvØ¡, even as we speak.
The World's Cutest Nephew? Still is. (Happy first birthday tomorrow, sweetheart!!)
I am tired ... in a deep, elemental, emotional/physical, right-down-to-the-heart-and-hair-follicles sort of way. Simply unpacking and wiping the leaky hotel shampoo off of everything has sucked all of the energy out of me today ... and even THAT much effort required a two hour afternoon nap afterwards.
I am a big sleepy/weepy blob of post-vacation, post-TicTac, post-Tot inertia. I don't care.
I don't imagine I'll do much else today. Maybe scan a few more graduation photos. Maybe eat another box of Aplets & Cotlets. Possibly cook dinner for David tonight, when he gets home from work. (He opted back to the office today: I go back tomorrow. I expect it to be terrible on all sorts of levels. But at least it's only for one day, and then I've got the weekend to continue recovering.)
I have a bazillion things to tell you about ... and exactly enough energy molecules to spit out this pathetic non-entry, just to tell you that we're home and that it was a fine trip and that Daughter #1 is now an official high school graduate ...
... and that I will be back to write about it when I'm back to write about it. Soon.