I was pleased to note there is a small but dedicated Pointy fan club in Rochester.
Vickie's coworker Erica has taken to incorporating Pointy into her vacation photos. I thought that pretty much ruled.
What else? I met a lot of Vickie and Valerie's friends and hung out with their parents. We had people over for a cookout. I made artichoke dip for everybody and would have made lemon bars if I'd had the time.
Sunday night Vickie and I sat up as late as we could and talked. Eight days would seem like enough time to get all the talking in, but every time we visit the last day always sneaks up on us and we have to cram two years' worth of stuff into one long conversation.
Yesterday she took me to the airport, watched me eat a hamburger, laughed at me when I went through the creepy explosives detector machine that blasts people with puffs of air, and stood waving outside the security area until I disappeared through the gate. I didn't cry like a big damn baby, but I came pretty close.
And that's it, except I should mention that on the way home I didn't slide the lavatory lock far enough and gave the last two rows of the plane a quick show when someone else tried to use it. Oops. That kind of sucked.
Now I have like nine million websites to read and the season finale of Six Feet Under all taped and waiting for me. I should probably hang out with my boyfriend and terrorize my cat too.
It's good to be home.