My king-sized bed with sheets so soft and a mattress so plump, you never want to roll out of it. I believe in comfort in all facets of my life and my bed is a shrine to the ultimate in feeling more than a little guilty over the people in Africa who sleep on straw and sticks and such. But, not that guilty that I've forgotten about their really terribly sad, destitute way of life, the second my head hits my multitude of feathered pillows! I raked my feet over and over my sheets last night as I fell asleep, like a cat kneading her paws in satisfaction.

It also felt great to be miles away from The Hubby. Not that I don't love him, but we are King-Sized Bed people. We have been since the moment we purchased our first king sizer. The queen sized beds we were forced to sleep in together over the last two weeks, did nothing but bring out the child in both of us, with constant mutters of, "You're on MY side of the bed. Scoot over!" I do believe that a King Size Bed is a must for any happy marriage.

And then, of course, there is my blog. Oh, how I've missed you all! My suitcases are scattered about, still tightly zipped, making me feel guilty, every time I step around them. But, I'd rather be here than anywhere else in the world.

As I was kneading my sheets last night, I thought of a few more things I really missed.

There's my coffee machine.

The Hubby's a Fancy Nancy. That's not a slam in any way. He knows this. Everyone of our friends know this. It's a fact of life. One of his nicknames is Sally as in "When Harry Met Sally." As in, when he orders, he orders just like Sally, with a ridiculous set of instructions on how he wants his food. He ordered a spinach omelette one time, which by the end of his order, ended up having no spinach in it. I often tell him, I am certain he's had his food spit in more than anyone else on the planet.

He says he knows exactly what he wants and what he wants is high quality. A perfect example is our coffee maker. It grinds the beans at a touch of a button. It adds some special crap called, "crema" on the top of each individual cup. It does all sorts of fancy stuff that I really have no idea about. I merely know how to punch the button that is fine-tuned for my jumbo sized cup, giving me two cups of coffee at once. And of course, The Hubby makes certain we have the finest beans from whatever land good beans come from. All I know is, I'm sure those South American beans are swimming in minute insect parts. But, how delicious those insect wings taste! So delicious, in fact, that most hotel coffees taste like piss water in comparison. I've had a few too many crema coffees today, I've missed that machine so much. In fact, my hands are doing the jitterbug as I try to type.

There's also my nightgowns. I'm rather a June Cleaver. 1950's housewife, when it comes to my sleepwear. I'm partial to old flannel and cotton, the rattier the better, in the gown-to-the-floor style. People often laugh out loud for a very long time when they see me for the first time in my jammies. While on vacation, I tend to dress up when it comes to sleeping. I'm not sure why. But, I sighed with complete bliss, when I slipped my large floral and butterflied, soft with wear, riddled with a few holes, pink and purple housedress over my head last night. Gosh, was it ever great to be home.  

I also missed the scenery from my windows....


Although, my scenery from my window in Yosemite was so wondrous, I cried. Pictures to come as soon as I can get my hands on that laptop.

And to sum it all up, here's a short list of the things I didn't miss and regretted coming home to:

Of course, the unpacking, the grocery shopping, the dinner making. Since, I've eaten out for two solid weeks, I really can't think of a single excuse to make a proper dinner for my family, but that doesn't mean I sure won't try to think something up.

The disciplined lifestyle.

I'm a fantastically, healthy eater and I work out because I don't want my 40's to conquer me. I will always fight the good fight when it comes to staying young. Not crazy trying to stay young, like the now, freakish, Halloween spectacle that is Priscilla Presley or Cher, but just fit and healthy and who knows, maybe someday a shot of Botox or two.

The last few weeks, healthy has gone by the wayside. We have gorged our way through the epicurean land of Northern California. Fresh seafood with gorgeous sauces, divine chocolates, Asian delicacies that melt in your mouth, cheeses and breads for glorious, sunset-watching snacking, wines like no other, and all of the calorie-laden bounties of the land. It was a non-stop gorge fest and now that I've limited myself to leggings and billowy, peasant style tops, it's back to skinless chicken breasts and roasted veggies and my faithful treadmill and weights.

Then there's my little mole surgery tomorrow morning.

I'm officially falling apart as I age. The digestive troubles  are over. I'll post my colon update soon. I know you'll be waiting breathlessly for THAT news. But, I had a little mole removed a few weeks ago. I go to the dermatologist every three months. I have to. I broiled in the sun as a young, albino girl before anyone knew that cigarettes and sunburns were a direct route to cancer. And because of my impossible pursuit of the George Hamilton tan, I've had more than a few skin cancers removed. My body is also a dot to dot fiesta of moles. I have moles in certain body parts most folks don't even know they have.

The report came back that one of my back moles had crossed enemy lines. No Biggie. Because of my ultra vigilance, all it needs is a good sized chunk cut out of my back and that little traitor is gone. The only reason I mention it, is I am the poster girl for skin care checks. The potency of skin cancers can be diminished by dutiful appointments. If you haven't been checked, do it, right away. Your life can depend on it.

And last, but of course, never ever least. A constant plague upon my soul....
Even with the mean, spiteful laundry piles, there's no place like home.

Today's Do It Download: I've got to get some blood pumping and get rid of the drag of jet lag, so today is some Big Audio Dynamite's, "The Globe." An old band, half of the broken up Clash. It's got a beat to it that will keep me unpacking and sadly, making dinner. Enjoy.