Travelogue, pt. 1

Berkshires for a nightRochester for a night Meadville for a night Pittsburgh for a minute and now Cleveland.

Been covering major miles and changing diapers on grassy banks next to Arby's. Been living out of laundry baskets and living off of granola bars. It sounds rad or at least like a hippie adventure that involves concerts in muddy fields and that scary drifter guy with the orange beret.

In spite of unforeseen disasters and zombie-like fatigue from the early part of our move, though, we've been having a fantastic time. Truth be told, it's been pretty cush. I mean, I smell totally rank right now as I type this, but only because I spent most of the day sitting poolside at Big Pops' and sweating through my sunblock. Not because the only bathroom for miles was a port-o-potty.

This interim between the time we left Boston and the time before we have to be in Tennesizzle has been a great respite for us, and, trust, I hate using such a Victorian word like respite but how else to convey that we've all as a family worked really hard for this rest? For weeks, we've been feeling claustrophobic from boxes and so deprived that we put all our good plates in boxes and so stressed out because, my Lady Bird Johnson, the boxes!!! My kids have weathered this move with so much grace, with Baby Girl begging several times a day if we could go home and could she just have some milk and a program (smoosh!). Even Little Man seems happy that he doesn't have to heave any more boxes up and down the staircase and that we no longer need to use him as a guinea pig to see whether the roof rack contraption is safe on the new wheels. And I kid.

In other news, thanks to all our servicepeople fighting and service families supporting this land of the free and the home of the brave. Blessings on this 4th of July. And the Bostonian in me would just like to reiterate that Yankees sort of stink.