Back from a one-week trip to France. Longest trip in 10+ years. It went well and it is emotionally so dense in my head. It’s always intense.
I saw my parents. My sister and her husband. A bunch of cats. Burned France. My foster mom in her retirement home room that probably will be where she leaves us. I passed by her/our house which is not hers anymore and she doesn’t know it and I know it too well and it hurts. I saw rain and violent storms, of course. I saw good old friends, kids and cousins. I went back to my ol’ apartment in Paris suburbs for the second time in a decade. I picked up my bass amp because I don’t want dad to mess up his back getting it down from the 3rd floor without elevator.
Due to jetlag and French culture, I feel like all I was doing was eat delicious food and poop constantly, at random hours. But we also did some heavy yard work. We moved about 4,000 pounds (2 tons) of discarded oak beams from construction that will be repurposed. Oak is like gold for my dad. He highly respects wood. I also unscrewed a billion screws from oak planks that will be sanded and used again, as new. I also slept in a van next to a 2CV. That unique ass car. Sigh.
Sipping on a homemade latte in my LA crib after a week without one, jetlagged as hell. Slurping as much sun (vitamin D) as possible to fight the COVID ting from travelling with all those hoes without masks.