![\"Img](\"http:\/\/steph.sicore.org\/IMG_0457.jpg\")
<\/a>![\"Img](\"http:\/\/steph.sicore.org\/IMG_0453.jpg\")
<\/a>\n<\/p>\n\nI was sad for a while after that, missing the eucalyptus,
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thinking of how ridiculous is was that we had to move away from that place,
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where Ford was born and where I enjoyed salty air in my lungs
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simply because housing was too expensive.
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The thought was fleeting, though, because the quality of life is good here.
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And I like the smell of juniper about equally.\n<\/p>\n
\n \nAround midafternoon we ran into thicker rain, to explain the mounting traffic. \n \nThe following day, we spent much of out time in the car. \n \nOn the way home, I picked up my needles<\/a><\/a>\n<\/p>\n
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When we arrived in DFW, cars were swimming in feeder lanes,
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and flashing lights from towtrucks, fire trucks and squad cars reflected in the flood.\n<\/p>\n<\/a><\/a>\n<\/p>\n
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Why? Because I forgot how big DFW really is. In fact, we lived out of the car,
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collecting disposable stuff and growing stinky.
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Chas would go to bed later that night exuding that patented
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deep-fried Twinky chimichanga funk, still in his day shirt, but too tired from
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a fatty dinner to take a simple bath. Which is okay, because we were tired, too.
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Damon had two exhausting days of training. A difficult thing for an introvert.\n<\/p>\n<\/a><\/a>\n<\/p>\n
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and a skein of Peruvian kettle-dyed wool.
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I smiled as we passed Willie’s Bio Diesel truck stop, in the middle of nowhere,
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happily having left that muddled maze of people-clutter behind us.
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While the kids were awake the ENTIRE trip back to Austin,
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Chas occasionally would point to my needles and frown, reminding me to be careful,
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by saying, “ow. ow. ow.”\n<\/p>\n