After 10 days of friends and music and neglect of my e-life and daily routines, Monday finally came. The house is not too trashed and I'm almost caught up on my sleep, but as I emptied my son's backpack for camp today, or as I groped through my purse to find my sunglasses I find the bits and pieces of our adventures, now just matter out of place (moop). The card game we played at the Grass Roots Cabaret Hall, bits of shiny metal and rocks he found in our travels, a napkin from our picnic at Treman State Park, the berry lip-gloss I wore to see Hee Haw Nightmare. As I put away the guest pillows I realize that each object holds experience that also needs to be processed and sorted- like "Amazing how many people stood out in the the pouring rain listening to New Neighbors play while we hid in the safety of the backstage tent" and "Geeze those Flying Clouds are a hard working band" and "they are not seriously going to close the Lost Dog are they?" and "hey, I just got back in the groove with some of my oldest and dearest friends who I have been enjoying energetically for many days and how come my house is all empty and quiet-like all of a sudden."
I slipped in my new MakePeace Brothers CD on the drive home from dropping my son at Camp and felt a strange aching in my chestal region. Sigh. Where to start this Monday morning: the 500+ photos I took? The shiny bits of metal and smooth rocks? The new albums I still haven't listened to? Pining for my recently departed friends? The e-mail backlog? A comprehensive travel log? Perhaps a second cup of coffee.