Launched

Joseph has flown. It was a long weekend with many visits from his entourage--various friends coming and going (when I nudged them out the door for some family time). The family room is looking awfully empty. He left with two suitcases full of torn jeans and tattered Harry Potter t-shirts (maybe 2 kilograms) and books and video games (about 40 kilograms). Emily and I took him to the airport, where he disappeared into the security gate and we loitered forlornly for a few minutes, then drove back home, hoping he would get on the plane all right. He got there. He is in the Bay Area for a few days, then on to Kansas and Indianapolis (some esoteric game convention), back to Kansas and to Seattle on the 25th. I am most grateful to all the people who are mothering him in my stead. Joan, picking him up at the airport as he returns to the motherland. Lea, driving to Kansas City in the middle of the night, and no doubt miles of other errands. John and Sue and Mark, ensuring that Joseph has a pillow and sheets and finds his way to his new apartment in Seattle. I wish I could be there, but I have not yet perfected this being-in-two-places-at-once, even in one country. Here on the underside of the world, it is winter, and a mild one, except for the volcano that erupted last night, I suppose. It was Mount Tongariro, where Emily did her heroic crossing in March--about three hours southeast of here. Just a small eruption, so far--some ash, some flames at midnight, but apparently no one hurt. Emily is at rehearsal for "Annie get your gun". Hiccup is going to have his first birthday on Friday. If I find the camera cable, I will post some pictures of Joseph's farewell party, which involved such seemingly innocent pasttimes as Pictionary, Boggle, and chess, juxtaposed with lots of alcohol (the drinking age is 18 here, so it was all legal, and he assures me well-considered, but still a bit disconcerting to the mother). farewell, baby boy.