A week back in Oregon and my suitcase still lies on my bedroom floor. Clothes spill from its gaping maw, and I have to climb over it all en route to the bathroom or closet. I haven't been able to bring myself to unpack until today, and then discovered something odd. I brought back a few gifts, only to find that the St. Bridget’s Cross made of rushes that I bought at Newgrange had been stolen from the case! Everything else had been turned over, bags torn open and items lying loose. It wasn't the TSA, because no note had been left inside to inform me it had been searched. A couple of things got broken, but nothing important. I’m lucky the St. Bridget’s Cross is the only thing missing.
I’m really going to have to stir my stumps and get this mess tidied up. Particularly as my schedule is going into overdrive this month and next, and I won't have time after this week. I’ve got several signings around the Portland Metro area, and the huge annual Willamette Writer’s Conference in August. I’ll post actual dates and places when I get myself organized. I'm still recovering from the journey, really. The plane from Newark to Portland was delayed by four hours, so I finally crawled into bed at 4:00AM Thursday evening, after a grueling 30 hour journey from Northern Ireland. Still, it beats a covered wagon without suspension eking its way across the Oregon Trail.
I think I’m always a little crazy for about a week after I travel back or forth between Northern Ireland and the States. I’ve learned not to contact anyone until I begin to feel more human. Yesterday was the first time I drove since coming back. That was fairly entertaining. As I pulled out of my driveway I told myself emphatically to drive on the left… which I did for about a hundred yards before realizing I wasn’t in Kansas….er, Northern Ireland anymore. Fortunately, I didn’t meet anyone, and corrected myself before getting onto the Freeway.
So, now I’ve more or less got the rest of myself together, I look forward to catching up with everyone.
