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There really is no place like home. It’s familiar and comfortable and a place where you can relax. It’s the place where you can take off your bra, put on your pink bunny pyjamas and lie in bed all day eating ice cream and watching movies with the sound off and the closed captioning on. Which is precisely what I did on Saturday.

I was totally exhausted from the 2 weeks of constant conversation and also a tiny bit battered. I took a hard fall in Montreal while loading the car, and my left hip took the worst of it. 7 car hours later, the whole left side of my ass was throbbing and magnificently bruised, but I was home. (Thanks for another good drive Mr. Groovy) That was Friday and Saturday morning I awoke to triple gravity, lots of aching, a bit of throbbing and a burning desire for cherry ice cream. So once I managed to get out of bed and get in motion, Jack and I slowly took our morning perambulation around the block, and while I was in gear, I went to get a few necessities. You know, milk, juice, bread, eggs and Chapman’s Deluxe Black Cherry Ice Cream. The rest of the day is a bit hazy, but I’m sure there was a bit of feeling sorry for myself. Sunday morning was much the same, but I did manage to get a few chores done, and today the extra gravity is letting up, and there’s only a teacup’s worth of aching. So, to celebrate, I took Jack out to our wee forest for a walk in the freshly fallen snow. It was a beautiful day with a touch of blue in the sky, and the woods were quiet and tranquil, without a trace of wind to disturb the blanketed snow. Jack and I took our time, but we made it all the way around, and by the time we got back to the car, both of us were feeling closer to normal. These woods are home for us, too, and just like Dorothy said, “There’s no place like home.”