The child and I made it to New Mexico rather late last night, and spent today relaxing and acclimating. Watched sunset from my parent's miniscule back yard, the setting sun throwing all manner of color over the Sandias before it finally went under. No mosquitoes.
Read two whole books on airplanes and in airports on the way here: Adam Stemple's Singer of Souls, which I really liked right up until the end which I was intensely disappointed in. Maybe there'll be another book and the main character can redeem himself... When I finished that, I read Ellen Klage's collection Portable Childhoods. These stories all fell somewhere on the scale between "wonderful" and "absolutely fucking brilliant". The title story felt like I was reading something I could have written about my own life, the resonance so strong it was uncanny. Anyhow, *highly* recommended.
Tomorrow there's a craft fair and other fun stuff to do. Hope everyone is having a good weekend!