Like the rest of my family, I was born and reared in the State of Washington. The famous "Northwest Corner," as my blog would have it. Unlike every other member of my family, I still live in that state. In Seattle.
The rest of the family, the shameless renegades, have flown to the far corners of the ... well, of the West Coast I guess. My sister and my youngest nephew Jesse live in Challis, Idaho. My brother moves about between three residences co-owned with his daughter -- all in Southern California -- Palm Desert, Oxnard, and Big Bear. His daughter's usual residence is in Glendale. My eldest nephew lives in San Francisco. My "middle" nephew has lived for the past several years in Chiang Mai, Thailand, with his wife and daughter; they will return to Sonoma, California, however, at the end of this school year.
I have hosted Christmas and Thanksgiving on a few occasions over my lifetime, but generally no one wants to come to an area they now consider either a rainy bog, or a state too close for comfort to the Arctic Circle. Instead, I get regular invitations to visit them, and to do the traveling myself.
Which is merely a lead-in to my announcement that I will be flying from Seattle to Palm Springs tomorrow. My brother will meet me at the airport and escort me the 14 miles eastward to his home in Palm Desert, where he has offered me places around the family Christmas tree and the dinner table. I'll be returning next Tuesday.
These announcements of departure from Seattle used to be necessary to explain why eager readers of my blog needed to expect a week or so without the joy of reading my latest essay. Now that my frequency of publication has sunk to a level explicable only by old age, incipient dementia, or -- most likely -- criminal laziness, this sort of announcement really isn't necessary. In fact, it's farcical. Nevertheless, old habits live on.
And so -- "No posts, gang, until at least next Wednesday!"
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