Welcome Back, Welcome Back, Welcome Back!

Growing up, one of the many rules Golden Boy and I had to adhere to was the no-playing-ball-in-the-house one. That's a hard rule for two active kids, especially kids whose mother made them ask permission to go outside in the backyard. And kids whose mother was a stickler for things like saying "Can I go to the park to play basketball? It's 4:15 now, and I'll come home by 4:30." We didn't have the kind of household where a kid runs out of the house yelling over their shoulder that they're going to the park, and it's understood they'll be home for dinner.

This didn't stop us from playing ball in the house all the time. Once, my parents went away on a business trip, only to return to find a broken back door. Whoops. Another time, my mom was in the front yard talking with a neighbor while Golden Boy and I played with a stuffed soccer ball in the upstairs hallway. Tons of fun, until I decided to turn around and throw my brother the ball, over my head. Because instead of throwing the ball out, I threw it up, directly into the hall light, which broke and came crashing down.

Trixie has just returned from a cross-country trip, helping her friend move from the Bay Area to D.C. for a job. It's so nice to have her back, and not only because she has geeky friends who fix things we're too girly to fix.

I loved having the place to myself for a week, if only to feel secure in knowing that when I got home I was home, and didn't still have to be on until I got safely into my bedroom. And don't get me wrong - Trixie is not a difficult person to talk with at all. It's just that sometimes, I don't have any talk left in me. Trixie's the type of person though, who will talk if someone's there to talk with (the mountain).

Trixie's mom picked her up at the airport yesterday, and then went back to her childhood home for lunch before coming here. When Trixie walked in the door struggling with bags, I jumped up to help, asking if she'd gone shopping. Trixie laughed.

See, my idea of going shopping is using Safeway, Whole Paycheck or Trader Joe's. Trixie's idea of going shopping is helping herself to whatever food in her parent's house looks good. She swears her parents don't mind. I swear her parents are good at picking out fruit.

Last night Trixie and I played catch in the living room, among vases and laptops and glass breakables, catching each other up on our respective weeks. We didn't break anything.