back in the hood

We didn’t hit the pavement until just after 8 this morning, so the sun was already full out and blasting any chance for those lovely, dreamy softly lit shots. 

Of course, with every loss comes a gain, right?  I mean, how else would Henry have his Hitchcock moment without some heavy light/dark contrast?

 Mostly I was just trying to capture the streets– how wide they are, how lush everything is right now, how some people are quite exacting about the way their grass is clipped.

Italy was a dreamy, dreamy trip and I feel really good about all the little travel details that usually snag me like I brought the wrong clothes, I didn’t bring the right shoes, getting to and from the airport is such a pain, the state I left my house in, the dogs— none of that pulled me down this time.  I felt really on my game, packed light, packed right and had the wildebeasts set up with in-house babysitting so I can only imagine any change in their day was perhaps more biscuits than normal.

But, and you knew this was coming because this is what I ALWAYS say . ..  there is no place like home.  I love love love being home so much. 

And yet, life still plays with me like I am her favorite ragged bit of catnip that she loves to send flying under the sofa only to pounce on and wrestle into oblivion with her claws.

Last week was kind of a blur of hitting the ground with work piled high on the desk, a car that went to the shop THREE separate times before the third defective pump was replaced with one that didn’t produce a sound that bonobo monkeys in mating season might make, you know if their legs were broken and they had a splitting headache from chugging down too much ouzo the night before.  The town also thoughtfully planned some street work, so I had no running water all day on Tuesday and then when the water did come back, my toilet no longer functioned– so that was some 48 hours of fun.

But hey– new toilet, new timing belt– is there a better way to usher in Spring?

bisous, e