Home,home,home.

The sock and I left Pittsburgh (which we actually thought was very pretty. I mean, you don't think "pretty" when you hear "steeltown", but it's been 30 years since Pittsburgh had steel and the city is lush, green and filled with rivers and bridges.) and headed for home.

We couldn't stop looking for home.

We were ecstatic to find it (and may have cracked a nice cold Canadian beer to celebrate).

This trip is remarkable in many ways. For the first time, I think I managed. It's not that I don't know how to travel (well, maybe it is) but I've always travelled with family. Joe knows half of the stuff and I know half of the stuff and when I need to know all of the stuff by myself....let's just say I have a new respect for Joe's half of the stuff.
(One of the Joe's things is luggage. I have to tell you that after slogging an enormous suitcase, the Remote Blogging System and my backpack through several airports that I have a new and grateful attitude toward this extraordinary contribution.) Knowing and doing all the stuff all the time is exhausting. Also remarkable is that this is the first leg of the tour where all parties concerned feel like they coped. Joe and the girls got on really well, totally getting their groove together. Also pretty unique is that this is the first time that I have got home that Joe has not met me with flowers in the airport. I take this as an incredible sign, since he didn't have time to get flowers because he was washing the kitchen floor instead. Joe may finally be catching on to the ideas behind the quote "No man has ever been shot while doing the dishes."

Finally, this trip is remarkable because the house is trashed, the laundry is mountainous, there is no food in the place...
and not one of us cares, not even a little bit. Not one. We are happy. We are together in our home, we are knitting Birch.

Oh wait...maybe that last one is just me.