Left on a Friday, back on a Monday. (not so much jet lag, but the last plane ride made me a touch queasy.)
Went to NYC to celebrate Mother-in-law's Birthday. She was very excited to see us there. While visiting, hopped on the ever-so-excellent MTA system and visited Megan, et alia. (Son had a great time until he became way too tired and exploded all over Megan's hallway. My. He is dramatic, ain't he? But we had a great visit up until 30 seconds before then.)
We stayed in Dear Butcher's uncle's apartment. Oh My. Manhattan living. No food. No garbage bags. Help me, I discover that his wife is a practitioner of the healing arts, complete with candles, incense, scented oils, and a copy of The Secret in the bathroom. Apparently she's sworn off caffeine, sugar, and anything that is not organic oatmeal. Which is fine--I don't mind eating elsewhere, but when I make a cup of tea, I can't figure out where to throw away the tea bag. Most nervewracking.
But we're home, both plane flights went very well, the animals survived under the care of Neo's friend, and we seem to be fairly jet lag free.
Started reading Scaramouche. Hee. Fun Book.
Neo, who had run out of books on the plane, asked me what I was reading. When I started telling her the plot she sighed, "Oh MOM! you are Sooo predictable."