And we're back.
We've actually been back since Tuesday or Wednesday or something (who knows? I never do), but I've been catching up on sleep and catching up on work and, honestly, playing video games with Barclay.
I don't know, guys. Sometimes, we dig out the Super Nintendo in the evenings and stay up until two in the morning playing Yoshi's Island together. It's quality shoulder-to-shoulder time.
Anyway.
Montreal was so nice! I liked it. I'd actually been once before, back when I was 17, but apparently I might as well have not because I couldn't remember any of it. It was funny though; I'd have moments where we'd be walking down a street and I'd stop and scrunch my face up and go, "Oh! I've been here before..." And I'd look all around trying to figure out what it was that was familiar, but it always eluded me. I felt like a character in a movie who'd lost their memory and was trying to figure out who they were. Like Jason Bourne or...oh, or Jim Carrey's character in the Majestic. Peter Appleton? Or Michelle in that one episode of Full House where she falls off the horse?
It was like that.
Anyway.
I'm at the part of the trip where you think about the trip a lot and look at all your pictures of the trip and romanticize the trip, even the parts where your kid wouldn't sleep past four in the morning and you spent a week in a heat wave without air conditioning and your feet hurt so much from walking that you had to ice them down every evening. I'm like, "Mmmm that was so cozy. And how nice to get such a head start on the day! And it doesn't even matter that I ate whatever I felt like because I got so much walking in! Ah, vacation."
But that thing about home being so humble and there being no place like it? That's true. I'm also at the part of the trip where I really appreciate the home and people I get to come back to. That's a very good part of every trip.
Stay tuned for one billion pictures of neat old buildings and quaint coffee shops. I'd be a terrible blogger if I spared you that.