The trip home yesterday was basically a straight, as straight as the Mississippi River allows, shot north up I-55 of about 800 miles. The weather was good, the traffic was light, so it was just a 13 hour trip to Lincolnland's maize and soybean desert. New GPS map toy was great fun, and that was good because the car radio went dead just north of Memphis. Maybe it channeled one to many horrid on-air preachers (it was a Sunday AM) and died of depression whilst scanning for news or decent music. The kitty-girls were pleased to see us; in our absence they were over fed and starved for attention. Be interesting to watch their reaction when this situation gets reversed. Several reasons exist to explain why TPP is glad to be home again. First, TPP is totally fed up with fresh seafood. OK, probably not, but this far from the ocean it's best to tell yourself that. Second, the weather in New Orleans, although quite typical for late July and early August, was beastly, oppressive 90+/90+ heat and humidity. To protect your health you had to duck into some AC'ed bar every hour or so to "rehydrate" and snack on some oysters. Third, somewhere lurking here in August is a new semester, and it would be a good idea to figure out when that is and prepare. Nah. Fourth, TPP gets positively claustrophobic living in a hotel's artificial atmosphere. Open windows, real air, familiar sounds of the night, your gardens are comforting, and without these his spirit withers. How TPP pities shut-ins, prison inmates, and high-rise condo dwellers even though only one of these sensory deprivation experiments is self-imposed. Too many people spend too little time out of doors. Fortunately the weather was good during our time away, and the F1 did a great job of watching after house and garden. For that she gets some Abita Springs beer.