time machine

The plane we boarded in January must have been a time machine. In transporting us 7 hours into the future, it also brought us to a parallel universe (something like that), where, despite the Roman walls and Egyptian mummies, only the present matters. My time here seems disconnected from my past (except for the months spent here previously) and my future. Were I at home, by now I would have the children signed up for swimming lessons and summer camps. I'll admit, I've started looking into such things, but I'm more concerned about tomorrow's schedule (leave around 11:00 for Chipping Camden, then on to Stratford-upon-Avon). Sounds rough, I know. Thinking only of the present is somewhat liberating--a great break from the mid-life (early-mid-life) crisis I was thinking about having last fall. But for all the fun we're having, this carpe diem lifestyle feels a bit rootless. Five months, eleven days is an awkward length of a stay--too short to become a resident, too long to be content as a tourist. It's hard for my kids to be away from friends and school. They have each other--but that's not always a plus--and their cousins, which should be a greater benefit than it is (other than for our four year old, who is in heaven living here with her six year old cousin). They should all be playing with each other constantly, but when I suggest the two twelve-year-olds hang out together my daughter asks, "What would we do?" Whatever happened to board games and hide-and-go-seek? But I digress. Being away from home is hard on the children and a bit hard on me too. I'm pretty self-sufficient wherever I live, but still, I miss my friends and neighbors, my book group, my sense of belonging to a community. Which (missing people) seems like a good reason to keep up former activities--blog more, not less, post on facebook frequently instead of never. I offer a few explanations: 1) For the first few weeks we were so busy establishing new routines that we didn't seem to have room for old routines; 2) We have a separate, collective London blog--whatever I've said publicly is there; 3) The children, being homeschooled, are always on the pc (and Nick is usually on his laptop). Right now I am typing this in the room where the boys sleep, and it's past their bed time. (I probably have other, subconscious, weird psychological reasons rooted in anti-social behavior.) I think the fact that I'm back to cakeballs is a good sign (of what, I'm not sure).