I Hear Tell There Are These Things Called Tellyfones, As Well

Hoffman trekitude has arrived at home after a 10 day stint on the East Coast, and lawd, people, can I just tell you how glad I am to be home? And we had a *great trip*. There is just nothing like your own life detritus, though, I tell you.
I confess to being way too knackered to go into elaborate detail at present, but in summary: we flew to Charlotte, NC, last Friday (July 20th), attended a sort-of retirement party for a high school teacher of Gene's, drove up to Charlottesville, VA on Sunday with a brief detour to Chapel Hill to see a friend from college, fetch up at our house trade. Yes indeedy, we did just like "that movie". I have no friggin' clue what "that" movie is, frankly, but everyone keeps getting the proverbial light bulb and saying "OH I GET IT NOW" when I mentioned we were doing a house swap with a family there in Virginia. Basically we have discovered that it's just way too much money for not enough room for a long haul in a hotel (though we lucked into a 2 bedroom suite for the few nights in Charlotte. Score!), so we either try to rent houses/apartments through a vacation rental site, or, in the most recent example, trade houses with a family willing to schlep to California. They are academics, so the scheduling worked out just fine, and they also have two small kids, so both houses were more than well equipped for the onslaught of toddler/preschool whirlwinds. It was awfully nice to have our own digs while still enjoying being with our extended family (on both sides, as my parents stopped through on their way home to Toronto---one stop family reunion shopping), but oh, it is nice to be back in my OWN digs. The kids did remarkably well on the flights, especially today's two legs (Reagan Nat'l to Phoenix, Phoenix to San Francisco)---Peabo only started totally losing her shit in the last 5 minutes of the flight to SFO and really, anyone can deal with that. She had spent the majority of the first leg using me as a jungle gym, and the second sleeping, at least until the cockpit blared on about where we were and how long until landing yadda yadda yadda. Then we were not Happy Cat. Bean was a total star on ALL flights, primarily because she now is more than content to chill out to music and have snacks. There really is a point to my title, I promise, and I am getting there exceedingly slowly. We were probably just inside California on the last flight, Peabo snoozing away on me, and I thought to myself, 'good lord, we were just on the bloody EAST COAST mere hours ago...how bizarre is this? This is a trip that took months in the 19th century, and at least a couple of days before mid-20th century'. Now, I recognize this makes me sound like one of those "GOL-LEE!" types, but it really strikes me every time I fly cross country, and to be honest, I'm not sure I really ever want to lose that funny little startle of knowledge.

And now I am going to attempt to stay awake long enough to pack Bean's lunch for tomorrow. I will rehash more later, I hope. If not, we had a great time. We are proven capable of traveling with two small children. We are happy to be home.