Hi, there.

Being home is absolutely wonderful. I'm never leaving again. Ever. Except to go to Joann's and HEB and maybe Maudie's because momma needs queso and margaritas from time to time. Mmmmm, margaritas... Did you know that queso, as I know and fiercely love it, doesn't really exist outside of Texas?! I tried to order some in Flagstaff and the guy looked at me like I was an idiot. "The burrito comes with cheese on it, but I can put some on the side if you want?" How has that not spread? Delicious, melty, creamy, spicy cheese in a bowl? Scooped up with warm tortilla chips with tons of salt? I feel terrible for anyone who has never had it. That must be what people are talking about when they say that they feel like something important is missing from life, but they don't know what it is. It's queso. They need queso. Shit. I need queso now. Havoc is still beating me. Last night he headbutted me in the mouth. My bottom lip has a very attractive cut along the top, and the top lip is cut all to hell on the inside. I love my kid, very very much, but good christ he's a dick sometimes. Unfortunately, my delirious joy to be home has been tempered by hurting my back again. It's been creeping up for a few weeks now, but I ignored it, kept on keepin' on, and now I'm back on the couch with my heating pad. Hopefully this time isn't as bad as it was last time, and I can avoid the whole physical therapy thing, because I don't like having to pay someone to fix me when I am too goddamn young to be this broken in the first place. The massages are pretty nice, though. The good news is, since I can't stand for longer than ten minutes without my back going into spasms I can't really cook, which means that the guys are going to be doing the cooking for a few days. That means we'll be eating out or ordering in, because I don't think they even know where the pans are or where I keep the bacon, which means I will probably get me some queso soon. It's all about the little things. Little things like queso.