kitchening a go go

Due to some family health problems, I've gone back to my childhood home in the suburbs of Philadelphia from my loft rural mountain town in the Appalachians(specifically the Montour Ridge) for an indeterminate amount of time, probably not terribly long, but long enough to set up shop in my mother's kitchen for a while.

I love my new home because it's simply beautiful country, the people are open and friendly, and the first really good school experience my learning disabled son has ever had is happening there, without me having to kick and scream and threaten to sue. I still miss my hometown terribly, and all the benefits being a suburb of a major metropolitan city has. *grin* At one point, I was even comforted by the standstill traffic on the Schyukyll Expressway. I sat there thinking, "Now THIS, THIS is traffic. Not seven cars backed up behind the Sheetz."

It's fascinating how your brain switches over. I had to reset the map in my brain, but all the roads and ways to go showed up on demand after having to look up where the hospital was. "ooooh, *that* hospital. "

I wonder what it is that I am so nostalgic for. I'm here, and still I wish I were here. The coffee-cigarette-familypiledinthekitchen holidays? The way the river smells in the fall? The way this old house smells on the first really cold day? Part of it is simply my parents, because I know I have an unusual relationship with them. I am lucky enough to consider them two of my best friends, as well as being the constant comforts they are.

I will have to reteach myself diabetic cooking for while I'm here. More on that later, going to run around like a chicken sans head for a bit.