A funny thing happened on the way to outer space.

I woke up on Sunday much less spacey. And I sort of drifted down to earth and landed right in my own house. Not my childhood home and not the grandparents' house - MY HOUSE. And it was good. My daughters and I stared at the picture of the doggy we want (still waiting to hear back from the rescue) and we spent quite a bit of time chatting and daydreaming about him. I took the twins to the grocery store with me and our backyard BBQ was rained out. And it was good. Because we grilled in the kitchen. Not the grandmother's kitchen in which I am spooked into dissociation for reasons unknown - no. I was in MY OWN KITCHEN. Where no one is scared and the whole family hangs out over the grill and children are allowed to bake cakes and put sprinkles on them. And then we watched two movies ('Up' and 'Pelham 123') and I was totally interested and able to pay attention even though J sat right there in the living room and talked to her friends via X-Box and headset while the rest of the family watched the second movie. It's good that she felt comfortable chattering with her buddies with her family around. Sunday was the best day I've had in a long, long time. I didn't see that coming. Maybe something else good will happen.