One probably shouldn’t start missing the bag inspection line at O’Hare Airport

In case of unexpected turbulence, please keep your seatbelt buckled the entire post.

Now that Jeff and I are well into our 3rd month of exclusive home cooking, it’s finally feels like the norm to cook all our meals at home, to make our coffee and tea at home, to have all our social time and drinks at home or in a friend’s house. I can’t say I really miss the restaurant meals, bar drinks or cafe coffees, although I know that Jeff has his moments still.

I miss being able to go see a friend’s new home the minute he moves into it. I miss being able to go hug and help distract a friend who, despite her best efforts and hard work, didn’t get into the acting/improv program of her dreams. I miss being able to go sit with a small popcorn, try to keep up with the subtitles, and watch as a friend brings yet another wonderful film to his community. I miss being able to go comfort a friend experiencing the miserable treatment that cancer requires, even though we haven’t seen each other in years and I didn’t know for the longest time that she even had cancer. Once you know, you know, and all I want to do is go clean her bathrooms, wipe out every one of her kitchen cupboards, fold her laundry, and make her a month of dinners. I too have my moments still.

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