Well, I am back in Syracuse, a.k.a. reality, from an adventure of a vacation down in New Orleans.  I’m writing this short post to let everyone know that I am still alive and well, that I have not given up on writing, and that I must fulfill the desire to write; writing was never accomplished over the vacation, which irks me, proving that writing is as addicting as coffee.  I don’t know exactly where to begin with chronicling my vacation. It is certainly not going to be chronological or a day-by-day walk-through.  The first would be easy, but the latter option would be a pain in my ass.

The trip started out with my flight getting cancelled on Thursday.  Some say it was weather and some say Obama being in Syracuse; I am leaning toward the latter, but that’s okay.  I got to see Grace Potter and the Nocturnals at the New York State Fair.  Yes, this mention of seeing Grace Potter punches my previous post in its face.  There was another trip snafu, but I am not going to get into it, but it will be said that my original flight back to Syracuse was October 30th… not August.

{Grace Potter and the Nocturnals)

I’m letting my cousin, Candace, scrapbook/Snapfish the trip.  We, although flying separate was inevitable, went to visit another cousin, John, , his partner, Chris, and we ended up with much more.  We saw John’s parents (my aunt and uncle), his aunt and uncle and a couple cousins, and we met a significant amount of Chris’ family, who were more than generous.

It’s nice to be back in Syracuse, though.  I enjoy the small town/city feel, and it’s definitely something to cherish when one returns to it.  Yeah, I know, that return statement is purposely vague.  In less than a month, travels have taken me to New York City and New Orleans, and time was well spent with friends and family and new friends.  The amount of culture, food, and entertainment has been cherished and reflected upon.  The desire to travel and explore is pumping through my veins with fury.

So far, I’ve had a Syracuse crazy look at me dead in the eyes and say, “Irish.”  Now, I am wearing a green T-Shirt and my Claddagh (which I doubt he was looking at my hand).  Then he continued with saying:  “Full-blooded Irish is what they say I am.”  I am not sure of these people, and I am not one to pass judgement, but he didn’t look Irish to me.

The morning of my flight, Saturday, August 31, I woke up dazed and ragged.  It felt comfortable.  I felt so inclined to take a selfie.  This was the first morning that I didn’t shave and start it out with some exercise.  I over indulged in life, and it is great to say that I never felt like shit upon my awakening any morning.  I didn’t want to leave, because there is so much available in New Orleans.  Southern hospitality  cannot be beaten, and it’s a close tie with European hospitality; I felt spoiled, and I am forever grateful.  Yeah, so Southern Hospitality will be a great place to start.

{Morning Departure Blues}