Home Is Where the Tiara Is

"Welcome home," they said in Atlanta.

"How's it feel to be home?" I was asked in New York.

"So glad you're home," I heard in Cincinnati last night.

I think it's Sunday morning. I'm pretty sure I'm in Cincinnati. If memory serves, I've been in Atlanta and New York over the past few days, seen some old friends, attended a conference, caught up with family, and fallen further behind on deliverables for that job thing.

I have no idea where home is anymore, but I know my bed and clean clothes are in London. I'll be back there tomorrow. Yay.

I'd make a list of things to remember/write about/act upon from the past few days, but I can't find the coffee in my sister's house, so the list will have to wait. I had a couple good revelations though, and one life-changing experience ... (Dirty Rotten Scoundrels' dog-in-the-luggage gag).

Played Pretty Pretty Princeless last night with people in the age range it was actually designed for. My niece (just turned 8) threw the black ring at me in disgust when I took it from her (diva much?) and my 6-year old nephew won. Apparently he wins often at this game ... and loves the earrings.

Who doesn't?

A suprise birthday party for my aunt this afternoon (I'm surprised she's only 60) and then baack to the glamorous glory that is airline travel.