North of the Laundry

Oh well, you know, the next time I go visit relatives – and I am going again next month, by the way! – I am just going to come out with it. You see, I had written a bunch of posts in advance and was expecting to have computer time every day (or every other day) that I was away and wasn’t I going to be clever and it would be seamless, like I was not away or anything! So I didn’t really explain that I would be away. Visiting! Not writing stuff! And travelling…and not writing stuff.

And then I discovered that I would in fact have hardly ANY time even in sniffing distance of a computer (cue sad music here). And good gracious did I ever miss you guys! And posting. And checking your blogs and seeing how you were. I thought about you all and wondered how you were – and I checked in a couple of times but it had to be quick, etc.

I am home now and I am looking forward to catching up with you.

Oh, and by the way – exciting rumors aside (ahem, Bill and Emjoi!) unlike Angelina Jolie, I did not have any babies, twin or not (hee hee)!  

And therefore I have got time for the kitsch and the retro, you see. Well, and the laundry. Isn’t it amazing how much laundry piles up when you go somewhere. I believe that it breeds in the luggage.

Wish I had some Surprise Soap or something with seismotite to help out, or even this lovely washboard from an 1890 ad from the Canadian Ladies’ Journal  (and isn’t it beautifully cropped! No, don’t answer that, it’s sort of a rhetorical question…) I love the name – the Northern Queen! Queen of the Laundry Mountains, far to the north of Suitcase City…but back, in any case (any case but a suitcase, though, please).