The thing about driving from Tennessee to Boston is this: it takes a really, really, fucking long time. Long enough to need three tanks of gas. Long enough to listen to Secaucus 16 times, if you're so inclined. The trip was exactly the right length, though. I was very happy to get to Boston, and very happy to get home. hissilliness laughed at me when I first arrived because I kept saying "I'm so happy!"

( No sleep til I-78! )

There's more to tell, but I need to go to my folks' place and make a pie crust. My mom and I both believe the talent skips a generation, which has the effect of making me think I have the knack for it, and making her think she hasn't.