The writing on this site has been pretty atrocious lately. I don't even know that you can call it writing. It's more like random blabbering about puke and tantrums. I just don't feel like I have much to write about. I don't do a whole lot. I go to school, and hang out with Norah. I, of course, find Norah fascinating. She's growing so quickly, learning and changing so much. I'm delighted by her. But then, I'm her mother and I don't imagine that the Internet is quite as delighted by her chirps and facial expressions and the way she crawls and the way her feet look when she crosses them while she eats. There is not a whole lot of adventure in my life right now.
On Friday afternoon we left for our Spring Break trip to Arizona. It was at least an 18 hour drive. A verifiable cross-country trip. And on late Friday night when we were in our hotel room in Amarillo, Texas, with our maniac baby rolling around on the bed and regularly kicking me in the face, I thought "Well. Hopefully I will be getting some good stories out of this trip. If nothing else."
I think I will.