  Tonight is the last of the blissful vacation, including the end of ignorance of the condition of my broken-into home back in Houston and the end of the lovely carseat interment for my children.
Tomorrow night we'll be in Houston, dealing with reality. Just as bloggers have the blogosphere and the RW, vacationers have to deal with the RW, too. My relatives always ask us why we don't just move back to New Mexico since we love it so very much. And we do love it, I think it's among the four or five amazing places in the world that truly renew one's spirit by virtue of physical beauty and unknown forces of nature--including Nepal, Cinque Terra in Italy, and the Paraquay. They always say that John could work at Los Alamos National Labs, and we say but he works for NASA!
They don't get it. In New Mexico, NASA is a far away institution that may or may not matter, but still pales in comparison to living in New Mexico. They don't think of work in terms of peaceful vs. military funding, but rather as enough work to pay the bills and buy a little beer. For us, work is the biggest expression of one's ideals outside family. We tell ourselves that this state is so amazing, we would only think about being there if we lived there.
We wouldn't care about saving the world anymore. I find this to be true with our most recent dealings with urlLink Greater World . It's far better for us to use New Mexico medicinally, treating our burn-out and homesickness, and continue our lives' endeavor. It's a strange brand of martyrdom, but it works for our little family. 
