No place like it

Red Dress Drag

An old college friend is in town from L.A. with her squishy new baby boy, Wyatt. I went this morning — without my own children, thank you Andy– to hug her/ squeeze him at another friend’s house, out in a very nice part of our city’s edge where there are lots of trees and hills and massive houses and personal space and Baptists and Republicans. And as I drove home, I had a whiny, jealous period that sounded a little bit like meh meh space and meh meh wooded lot and meh meh laundry room and meh meh grown ups, etc. And then I got off on my exit and wiggled my 18 blocks into the heart of my own neighborhood, and came upon a cop directing traffic around a massive gathering of men in red dresses and formal gowns, milling about between fun run and pub crawl. I realized that one of them was our metro councilman, who turned around and waved at me right after I took this picture.

And then I smacked my forehead and said, “this is home.”

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