"Again, on NYC." To quote from a song from the musical "Annie" (stage version, not movie version). And amen, Daddy Warbucks.
It is so, so good to be home. Bailey's hale and hearty, because I know that's first on everyone's mind. The dogsitter even gave her a bath, so she was shiny bright when I got home yesterday evening (Bailey, not the dogsitter).
Today, I slept in, took Bails out for her jaunt around Central Park, then proceeded to re-aquaint myself with the 'hood. Took dry cleaning in to Lee's Laundry downstairs - stereotypical, yes, but there it is, then on to the nail salon to be manicured and pedicured (I so deserved it). Had to run to good ol' Wankel's Hardware (see red/white/blue building in one of the previous posts) for a couple of things - they know me already, and on to lunch at the local Vietnamese restaurant (total - $5.95, including tax).
Step-daughter Kerry called to figure out a time we could get together for dinner (Sunday evening). Our goal is to look ahead to plan our summer theatre-going forays. We're both kicking ourselves big-time for missing "Pajama Game" with Harry Connick, Jr. I hear he was so yummy, you wanted to eat him with a spoon. Darn. (You know how I feel about New Orleans men. Mmmm.) Well, we'll figure out something else - lots of good things here, so never a problem to find something wonderful.
So, I survived my first General Convention, and I don't think that I, personally, contributed to the breakup of the Anglican Communion. Lots of folks on both sides upset about the last Windsor Resolution vote (the infamous B033 requested by both the current and the future Presiding Bishops). I believe pragmatism ruled the day. We had to give the new PB something to go to the table with when she meets with the other big-wig-bishes in a couple of years. Still, no one's happy and those famous Anglican "bonds of affection" have been stretched to the limit, I fear. Sigh.