Dames and Drambuie

Where have I been? The homestead. Oodles of family bonding, but not much email access.

My grandma turned 86 over the weekend, so we all happily flung ourselves across time and space to go remind her that she rules. How much does she rule? Here's the guest list for her birthday party: Her son and current daughter-in-law, her ex-daughter-in-law #1 and boyfriend, her ex-daughter-in-law #2 and husband, and her four grandkids (who live in four different places).

But wait! There are more daughters-in-law. Ex-DIL #3 and current DIL #2 called to wish her well, and ex-DIL #4 sent a box of glorious chocolate-covered strawberries. Suffice to say, the lady inspires loyalty.

Toasts duly drunk and strawberries duly snarfed, I headed to Boston to visit D&D, stellar friends on the cusp of moving to France for a while. Walked with them, shopped with them, discussed the nature of human change with them, drank whiskey with them, envied their travels, absconded with one of Mrs. D's paintings at dawn.

The epic journey back began at 5:15 a.m. EST and ended at 3:15 p.m. PST. That's...um...a fat wheelbarrow of hours. My direct flight had to touch down in Denver to refuel because of high winds, so we spent more than nine bumpy hours in our sweaty leather seats.

But when I finally dragged my weary self home, the sun came out and the air was dry and warm. My winter coat is shoved back into the depths of the closet, where it damn well belongs. My laundry is done.

Now, if I'm lucky, I'll get a long night of saturated sleep and dream of becoming a grande dame, surrounded by as many daughters-in-law as circumstance is generous enough to send along.