We had a quiet morning as we prepared for our flight home. Mark, Melora, Kristina, and Melissa took Arthur to a park; he was bummed that there wasn't a train there. I folded laundry and watched Mary play a game called "Zuma" on the computer.
This time the airport trip was much less frantic (it helps to leave on time). Once again my carry-on bag caused a stir. A security guy pulled it from the X-ray machine and I helped him go through it (all the time I held Arthur). It was odd to watch his latex-gloved hands unzipping all six of the bag's compartments. He figured that the tarot cards looked odd on the X-ray -- either that or the camera and it's batteries looked odd. I wasn't sure if the cards themselves looked like a metal box or if the metallic threads in the scarf they were wrapped in looked like wires or what. I assured him that he could unwrap the cards -- I'd wrapped them well so it took him a few moments -- and when he did the Eight of Wands showed up. "Oh," I said, "You should be getting a message soon."
"No, stop," he said in his Brooklyn accent. "Don't tell me. When I was young, some friends of mine were always trying to get me to see some Gypsy. 'Oh, come on,' they'd say, 'she's really good.' And I always told them, 'If she was really bad I'd go see her, 'cause I don't wanna know.'"
We didn't take Arthur's car seat with us onto the plane, and that worked a lot better. For one thing, when he was seated he was unable to see the PG-13 movie playing.
We got to sleep in our own beds 1 AM West Coast Time.
Arthur woke up fairly early, but he's napping now. It will be a long afternoon, I think.
While we were gone, our roses and irises began to bloom. Muriel isn't quiet so irritating, but she is still needy.