I left my stomach in DC
The last few days feels like a distant blur now. I guess doing nothing but alternating between vegetating in front of the TV and stuffing myself with yet more food does fudge up one’s concept of time.
In a way, it was a relief to finally extricate myself from the easy reach of so much food and come home to snuggle under my familiar sheets. It felt good to take a long, lanuorous nap and wake up for a spot of climbing with Nikki.
That I was no longer in a sprawling house tucked away in a lovely bit of woods where autumn was still showing its last colors, enjoying the warmth of good conversation and much laughter, breathing in the savory aroma of stew bubbling away in the kitchen… finally hit home just now when I was attempting to cook some carrot cake. Instead of perching on a bar stool in front of the stove-island in my aunt’s huge kitchen chatting with my cousins and my aunt, I found myself silently staring at the red light of the digital kitchen timer, impatiently watching the minutes tick by. The pang hit hardest though, when after long minutes of trying to quell my rumbling stomach, I realised that my carrot cake was never going to get crispy: I hadn’t used the non-stick pan. 
So I had to make do instead with an omlette of carrot cake. I miss DC.
Yay, it was a good trip. My favorite bits were in the evenings, when we’d all gather round the dining table. At first the talk would be stilted, as we’d all be totally preoccupied with the food. But as our hunger - and greediness - became satiated, we’d lean back and the conversation would just flow. And after our food settled and we were slowly induced into a food coma, my aunt would make coffee and we’d start the next round of food: dessert. Mmm, the last two nights, we broke out the fondue set that I had given my aunt last year and we had chocolate fondue with tons of fruits. Heh, we even toasted marshmallows by tealight.
Ahh, good times. Can’t believe I have to go back to work again tomorrow…
