I got home last night, promptly unpacked and went to bed.
Travelling at the best of times can be trying, flying with a head cold is damn near torture. During the descent into Helena, the plane dipped several times- very quickly; my head and the pressurized cabin were not compatible; the screams of the woman next to me almost did me in.
I managed not to strangle her and exited with as much dignity as I could muster, deeply suspecting that my right ear was bleeding….it wasn’t.

Anyway, today had all the energy of a wet firecracker, so I medicated and watched a couple of movies: The Last Picture Show and Romero. So different, and yet there was a vague sort of melancholy hanging about both of them, and no, it wasn’t Cybill Shepherd’s acting. Two completely separate scenarios- El Salvador and West Texas- the poignancy of fighting for what one believes in, versus the poignancy of not knowing what to believe- there’s some film student’s thesis in there somewhere.

So, still feeling a bit cruddy, but counting my blessings- and grateful for the opportunity to count them.