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On the road.

<p>So I'm partway on my way to NYC for the weekend. It's been a while since I had a real, solid visit though my last two--bookending a trip to Connecticut--were lovely and marvelous.</p>
<p>This feels kind of last-minute; I'm still not sure what all we'll be doing when we get up there. It still feels like only last week when Parker reminded me, "You know our New York trip is next week, right?" Oh, wait, I guess it <i>was</i> 'just last week'.</p>
<p>I like the way this (mini)roadtrip feels. I guess I'm just so used to the way my parents freak out and micromanage and overpack and yell at eachother (something they otherwise never really do...). I seemed to almost inherit some of that anxiety as the weekend approached--mostly out of worry for how/when/what we'd be doing.</p>
<p>But then I let go somewhat, somehow. Like, I'd call my friends to check in and coordinate, and while they'd be (understandably, I suppose) "When are you getting here?!" "What do you wanna do!?", I somehow just felt, "It's cool, man, we'll figure it out fine.". </p>
<p>And I think it will be :-)</p>

<p><i>I started writing this in the car ride up to NYC Saturday. I forgot to finish it then, but feels it's still worth posting even as we head out of the city and start heading home.</i>

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Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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