Williamsburg

I'm home, and my goodness is it weird.  These places have become something closer to myth than reality, and I feel as though I'm walking through memories.

Well, as predicted, my heart nearly did melt last night on my flight to Richmond when I heard my first genu-ine Southern accent in months.

Upon arriving home, my mother greeted me with a Chicken Pot Pie, Brunswick Stew, and two Pumpkin Pies.  (I don't know why I capitalized all of those things, but I feel as though they deserve it.)

I discovered that my parents now have a washer and dryer that is something out of The Jetsons.  (I had no idea something like that could have so many buttons!)

I bit the bullet and got my hairs did.  It was something like eight inches off?  I keep getting surprised every time I see my reflection.  Obligatory photograph: 

I went to lunch at The Chickahominy House with my super awesome surrogate mother/friend Mrs. Perry.  Our conversation included such things as ridiculous stories from my summer, music, boys, and Lord Byron.  Of course.

And this evening, after a slice of Pumpkin Pie, I made a stop by Chapel's choir practice and lots of hugs ensued.  I sat by my mom in the soprano section, and never have two people giggled more during an anthem.  (I was previously under the impression that we mature as we age... I guess not.  Thank goodness.)

And now, my dear friends, I am currently sitting in the coffee shop of coffee shops: Aromas.  Sippin' on a lavender tea, making snarky internal comments regarding William and Mary students, and writing this to you out there. 

Yall have a lovely evening.  I have to go pick my mom up from choir practice.