Home again home again

Holy peanuts, it has been a couple of weeks, if you know what I mean. Boston to New York to PA to New York to PA, weddings and bars and jogs and heat and rain and bagels. I mean, a real couple of weeks.

I have hundreds of pictures to go through, but here is a sampling of the last week. First, upon Mike's arrival in NYC, a boat tour around the isle of Manhattan.

My brother, visiting from Oz.

My parents' house and property, where we cavorted on land, on river, and on horseback. And on the porch, with beers.

My cousin's wedding, at which at least a dozen middle-aged family members absolutely FREAKED OUT to the live band's rendition of Lady Gaga songs. The bride had the tiniest waist and the biggest smile I've ever seen, and it was a beautiful party.

As I write, it is 4 p.m. here in San Francisco, and 7 on the east coast. If we were still at my parents', we'd be having drinks on the porch right now. Mike would be looking very satisfied from the time he spent clearing brambles on the Bush Hog (photos to come, I promise), and I would be sore from the athletic undertaking of the day. And it would be good.

But also good is the end of vacation, since I'm back with my cats in my apartment, with my things and my smells. And a suitcase full of my dad's homebrew and my mom's zucchini. So there you go.