the farm and the fam

So, I have been home just about five days now, and still my mother cannot stop hugging me. I feel a bit like a six-year-old’s broken-in teddy. Every time she passes me on the couch or on the computer, she says, “Oh, I can’t believe you are here and that I can touch you.” Then, the hugging ensues again. Don’t get me wrong. It is nice to be loved and all that, but I hope she calms down soon and doesn’t evolve (or de-evolve) entirely into Edith from old episodes of “All in the Family”—although my stepdad would make a good Archie Bunker, now that I think about it.

Yesterday, I split wood. So, obviously, I feel right at home back on the farm. Here I was trying to be a Sunday morning slug lounging on the couch through an episode of “Trading Spaces” (which just bites since Ty jumped ship to “Extreme Makeover, Home Edition”). But, nope. No can do. Dad came in and said he needed some help with the wood pile, and I got to spend a good hour working out with a wood splitter and eye protection. Ah, the joys of the farm.

I still have a few more days here before I move on to Topeka to see Shelbs. She is the oldest friend I have—since the 7th grade when she ran up to me in Social Studies and told me she just LOVED my Duran Duran t-shirt cuz she just LOVED Simon and Nick (I always liked John and Roger more myself; so, since we knew we could split Duran Duran evenly and without any jealousies, we became fast friends).

She works for a lobbyist, and we are headed to KC to crash a state liquor distributors’ convention. Ah, the joy of free samples.

But, I do miss the gang back in Hamada: Isom, Jennifer, Nathan, Rebecca. If you guys are reading this, kisses and hugs to you. Come visit soon.