Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens.

I'm listening to "My Favorite Things" right now and thinking of our last night in Prague. Shortly after dinner the sky started flashing with lightning, and then came the rain, and hail the size of golf balls. The six of us girls were up in our room on the third floor, sitting on our beds (or my bed mostly, as it always happened) talking about your typical girl topic: Our Ideal Guy. There were two windows in our room and we could see (and hear) the crazy storm outside. After a half hour or so there was a knock on the door, and we told whoever it was that they could come in. The guys then opened the door and burst in, with David saying, "Alright, alright - my turn! 6'2", ALL MUSCLE."

They sat on our floor and we changed topics to our favorite moments of the trip. It was then that one of the guys noticed a leak in the roof, just next to my bed. We got a bucket and set it on the floor to catch the water. Within fifteen minutes, there were two more leaks in the roof, so we got two more buckets. We sat together in the room with blankets and chocolate, watching the lightning and hail and listening to thunder and the sound the water made as it fell from the ceiling into our plastic buckets. And soon, our favorite moments of our voyage with Team Praha had turned into a round of "My Favorite Things". Out of all the favorite moments we'd talked about, that night may have taken the cake.

We've been home for over a month, I realized today. It doesn't feel strange anymore, though home is different. I watched "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" a few weeks ago (and I did like it - I'm sorry if that breaks some rule of good taste) and it rather reminded me of the feeling. "It's a funny thing about comin' home. Looks the same, smells the same, feels the same. ["Did I ever tell you I was struck by lightning 7 times?"] You'll realize what's changed is you."

I just can't wait to go traveling again.