prodigal son

Today Tyler came home after a camping trip with his dad... 10 days of four-wheelers and fishing, campfires and pine needles. Last night he called me to let me know they were back in town... and also tell me how much he loved me, and that he was counting the minutes until we were reunited once again.

Fine. I made up that last part.

I suspect Ty called because his dad told him it would be a good idea to check in... which probably hadn't occurred to him at all. In fact, I'm almost positive it hadn't occured to him, because our conversation went like this:

Mom: "I'm so glad you're back, honey!"

Ty: "Yeah... me, too."

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how ready are you to come home?"

"About an 8." Promising.

"On the same scale, how ready are you to play golf again?"

"Probably a 9 1/2."

That one was easy... he's played golf every day this summer, and I knew he'd be chomping at the bit to come home and swing the wrenches. But the next question was a toss-up:

"And how much have you missed me while you've been gone?"

(Slight pause while he decides if he should be honest.)

"Uh... maybe a 7." Honesty prevails.

Seven's pretty respectable, considering that he's almost 14... but I figure I'll try negotiating a better number.

"So... does 'maybe a 7' mean possibly an 8?"

"No. I just couldn't decide between 6 and 7, so I rounded up."

I gasp... he chuckles. (I know, right? What a punk.) He loves messing with me. I love it, too.

But part of me--the part that always wants him to need me just a little bit--would have loved an 8 even more.

Welcome home, happy camper.


so... where was I?

The last time I posted a blog entry, the world looked like this:

And now, it looks like this:

I decided to boycott blogging until Mother Nature stopped being a tempermental bee-yatch and the daily forecast began consistently using words like "sunny" and "hot" and "no rain in sight."

For the record, if I happened upon a crowd staging a protest against an Unseasonably Chilly June, I'd join them in a second. If people were picketing in support of the right to assume that spring would actually be pleasant... well, hand me a sign, sister, cuz that's one line I'd be happy to stand in.

Make no mistake: I am the Norma Rae of crappy weather.

Actually, I'm kidding... not about the Norma Rae thing, that's all true... but that's not why I haven't blogged. I've just been busier than any human has any business being with things like: Attending my brother's college graduation... visiting my niece in the hospital (she's fine now, thank goodness)... going out of town for work... going out of town for fun... coordinating my company's annual breakfast (700 people over to the office for pancakes)... and on top of it all, just putting in long hours on other projects. I do come home occassionally and reintroduce myself to my family... thankfully, there's still a spark of familiarity there.

Even more thankfully, things have slowed down... just a little, and not for long... so I thought I'd reconnect while I have a couple minutes to breathe. I have some fun stories from the past several weeks... hopefully I can get around to sharing a couple before I'm caught in the undertow again.

In the meantime, there's a perfectly good summer evening going to waste as I type (see second photo)... and since Mother Nature finally threw me a bone, I think I'll go out and enjoy what's left of it.