Sunday, February 17, 2013
Lately this song has been running through my head. The line "Home is wherever there is you" especially rings true since we are living elsewhere. And though it rings true, something happens when we are truly home. All defenses come down. Decisions are not necessarily difficult but are just not made. Leaving the house is not desirable. We hole up with food and movies. Maybe it's the comfort of being home that causes Pat's body to say "Whew!" and he crashes on the weekend. There are no appointments, no one to see, no where to go. In addition to some minor physical side effects this weekend, My Handsome Prince has lost his hair. When Audrey and I got home from church this morning, Emma met us at the door and whispered, "Daddy is losing his hair...a lot." The girls got out the clippers, set him up in a chair in the kitchen and proceeded to buzz him. They gave him a mohawk just to take some bad ass photos then cleaned him up, put a hat on him and branded him Breaking Bad. Every time he enters the room, I'm still a bit taken aback, though truthfully he does not look a whole lot different than his co-workers with their high and tights. He's just tight, not so much high.