The word of the day is: Assuage.

Specifically, 'Assuage guilt."

I just got back from Columbus, Ohio, from the Buckeye Invitational Chorus competition. Mom did fabulously, as did the other 63 members of the Verdugo Hills Chorus, taking the grand prize for entertainment, boards, and overall. I'm really goad I drove out to see them. They're a really great bunch. It doesn't hurt that it serves to assuage future self-inflicted guilt for not being a good son.

Right now I'm writing to assuage my other guilt, writing on the weblog. It's really frustrating that every minute is occupied with something, most things of which are directly related to making my existence on this distant not-quite-coast habitable, both physically and emotionally. At the same time, I need to post because I want to write the trip up, day by day, and post the pictures (which I know Ammy is waiting for (even though she has other things on her mind at the moment)).

My fear is that you guys, my bit of social live that's ultra-mobile, happy to jump online for the journey, will get bored and drift off. Don't do it! Give me a couple days and real content, real stories, and real insight and imagrey (the kind where I know I'm doing something right because Trisha calls me on a sentence and asks me if I knew that sentence was great when I wrote it). It's all in me, and the strain of it bursting to come out is just even with the strain of improving my physical surroundings, not to mention spending time with Mom, who's here (helping with the aforementioned physical surroundings tasks) until Tuesday morning.

So, I hope I've successfully assuaged my blog-guilt for another day or so, but I'll only know by your comments.

It's amasing how isolation fosters insecurity. Pathetic, huh?

Oh, and my cellphone's dead. No explanation, and so far no resolution, so if you know my Pitts phone, I'll try to remember to plug the phone in when I get offline, and if you want the # and should have it, email me.

Take it easy. It's Sunday!