Dear Mom,

I am sorry that I haven't written in a while, I have been rather busy. And seeing as I am in the same house as you now I don't really find it necessary to have to write you to say hello.

In fact, I can just turn around and say hello. Which I think I will do. Right now.

Hi Mom!

You said hi back, chuckled and asked what it was I was doing.

Just writing to you, says I.

Oh that's nice. Don't forget to clean your room, I think it's what's making you cough.

Thanks Mom, and I will, blushes I. But I've really got to get back to writing to you mom.

Oh sure dear. Let me know when you're finished.

I will, not to worry.

I changed the layout a bit; just one of the ways I've kept myself. I've been following Dad around for a bit, helping out my uncles and pretending to be various types of farmers; chicken, dairy, pig, turkey, crop etc. I think I make a pretty good lil'buckaroo.

On top of that I've been dreaming up excuses to take off again. There is a list of places to go, at least ones that I've made a point of highlighting. The list has included London (Ont), Toronto, Montreal, Halifax and St. Johns, however I've started looking more west-ward for my next adventure. Perhaps Edmonton, or Calgary, or Jasper, or Banff.

Excuses for traveling aren't hard to come by, as there are so many places to go, and it has helped that I've reread some of Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker series. The one I read first, actually it has just occurred to me that it is the only one I've reread since arriving home, is So Long and Thanks for all the Fish which features the series' main character, Arthur Dent, arriving back to planet earth, adjusting to life as it was before he left and, ultimately, leaving on another adventure.

Quite appropriate and unplanned and welcomed all rolled into one.

I'd also like to point out that that map thingy I have has reset itself and is currently showing little red spots, representing people, all over the map. This means that, by some odd, yet interesting, computer glitch, people are still coming to visit this site, even though I have arrived home, haven't written much at all, and, something that I thought I was quite sure of, you, my mother, were among the only people still reading. In fact, even though it might appear so by the recount of a conversation of ours above, you don't even know that I am writing now, because I made that all up.

I am not sure why, but I am glad they are there and I do hope that they make themselves known by way of a comment or two, just so's I know who and where they are. Of course if they are shy I would take an email too.

That's all for now, as you are calling Mands and I to the table to decorate the treat bags.

Until next time:

love, your son.