The world's longest, weirdest summer camp

That's how this feels...

I picked up my tickets last night. There it is in black and white: dates, times, everything. I will get on in Kuwait, land again in New York, again in San Francisco. I say to people in Sacramento and Pittsburg "See you Wednesday," and "See you on Friday".

For the first time on Saturday I used "Home" to describe Kuwait. I am at home. It feels like a home, my home. Now that I am evaluating what stays and what goes with me ("I need room in California for eight boxes of Stove Top Stuffing...") and I am dragging my feet about packing.

Part of it is purely physical. I dread the jet lag, the physical toll that traveling umpteen bajillion time zones is beginning to take on my body. Looking back on my first two blurry weeks here, knowing I would look back on them and they would be blurry, doesn't make it less painful than it was. One needs to do this either quite frequently (be a Airline Attendant) or once a year.

Let's not kid ourselves- it's ALL physical, because with very few exceptions during the time I'm gone I am going to be GOING. Seeing this person and that person and settling business matters and eating and drinking and tasting and remembering what to bring back and what to leave and did I get my Birkenstocks re-soled and spinach is hella tasty and there is absolutely no one here with a Dishdasha on. Whew.

Ham.

Need running shoes badly. Woot. Coffee maker with timer too.

"Eaaartth be-low us, drifting FALLLLING whoooaaaa"

(Just kidding)