So, I am doing some writing. It is a furious kind of catch-up I liken to speed dating. Only instead of a bell timer, it is my baby, Penny (Moneypenny, Chez Penny, Pen-Pen, Pen-Pen Paroo) crying for me. [Insert Don't Cry Penny Valentina lyrics to the tune of Don't Cry For Me Argentina, here. Now she is actually crying because she heard me type it. I am back. And apparently still in brackets--story of my life.]
The writing I am doing is email. Surprise! It is like a stuffed puppy instead of the real one you were expecting for Christmas. I will get it right next time. For now, I can only offer you my hanky and entertain you with what I have written to other people. Actually, this kind of voyeristic style makes some people millions. And that is where my credit lies, with the likes of reality crap everywhere.
Here is what I just wrote to my brother, in response to his email about being without internet:
Cool. New age folks call it going "unplugged".
I miss you. It just started. This feeling of, like, where is my brother. I am glad you will be coming home soon. I can't wait for you to help me stock my cupboard with all the latest thai cooking essentials. And of course I can't wait to hear all the ways of the world you have picked-up. Those that would be easily told to my friends over a few cocktails would be ideal. The woman of Bainbridge await your travel tidbits.
Have an excellent time on that other island, volunteering and all that greatness.
I love you.
PS. Dad was this close [see fingers .25" apart] from buying a matching Patagonia tee to yours before he realized the one only came in long sleeve--which apparently he has sworn off since getting arm muscles. A bonus to being XXL is that you can get anything during sale time online.