It's good to be home again, even if it is dull, wet, rainy and cold here. I see that the table cloth has not been changed since I was gone, nor the toilet cleaned, nor the cookies replenished in the jar. The boys stayed up too late last week and are sick and a bit grumpy.
I am eating for two time zones, as my friend says, and find myself extremely famished at 9 am.
Now is the time to sort through my photos and start blogging about my trip. I read a great book on the way home called How to Be a Woman by Caitlan Moran. I was struck at how similar (in nature) a few of her observations are to some of the anecdotes I recounted in my piece. She is a witty and wise feminist and her words are inspiring and affirming.
I had such a good time in Montreal that I cried in the taxi on the way to the airport--tears of joy, sadness and relief. Plus I was going on very little sleep since we partied like the end of the world was coming and had poutine in an all night diner called Claudette's at 3 am. Partied more, and then had three hours of sleep before waking up and getting ready to depart. I was reclaiming my youth in some ways and hell, I had a great time doing it.
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