We got back last night from a blitz of a trip to Miami, having driven down there, stayed two fast nights, and then driven back (the latter by way of Sarosota, which made the return a twelve-hour marathon). So I’m still reeling a little.*

This caps off a crazy month-long period of household repairs and retrofitting and entertaining guests and… And we’re not quite out of the woods yet — another trip (the annual New Orleans jaunt) comes up in a few weeks. But for now I also look forward to getting back into the swing of things (such as it is, and such as they are) online. Expect a few sputters and coughs from the old engine here while I engage in virile (albeit 100% metaphorical) activities like replacing the plugs and points, cleaning out the carburetor, adjusting the timing chain, flushing the radiator, wiping axle grease from my hands, cussing at the old alternator (which hasn’t worked reliably since I bought the goddam thing at eBay), swilling Budweiser while framed in the sunset light streaming in from the mouth of the garage, and wolf-whistling female passersby.

I’ve got a lot — a lot — of catching up to do at your places, too.

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* After each of the last few times we’ve taken long road trips, I’ve spent the next day or so unconsciously certain that some sort of heavy machinery is operating, without ceasing, in our neighborhood, down here at the end of our quiet suburban cul-de-sac, if not actually in our house. The floors and walls vibrate, you know; they thrum with industry. And then I realize that the vibrations are those of a six-cylinder rental car with good steel-belted tires, running for hours over unbroken stretches of limited-access-highway pavement. I previously wrote about the so-called Hroom Effect™ about three years ago.