First of all, though Robbi is gone away to the tundra, the weekly auctions will continue. My industrious girl scribbled furiously in the days leading up to departure and produced four illustrations that will be posted on each of the next three Mondays. This week’s topic comes courtesy a Skribit suggestion and features a drawing of a cassowary painting an emu.

For those of you who do not know, the emu is the world’s second-largest bird and the cassowary is the third. I did not know this fact until I did my research for the auction description. We cannot know whether or not Robbi was aware of this uneasy power dynamic as she put pen to paper, but if you are inspired by the illustration, you may, of course, bid at will and with no restraint.

And since we were traveling last Monday and did not post last week’s auction until Tuesday, you may still bid on Umbrella Hats, though my mother, who claims to be the current high bidder, will surely resent me for reminding you.

In other news, I have just completed my last bit of work for my actual job, so my writing sabbatical will begin in earnest when I rise tomorrow. I imagine a full day of unencumbered bliss at my keyboard, fleshing out story ideas that have been too long neglected, catching up on overdue emails to old friends, and taking a long, hard look at the tower of unsorted papers that litter my desktop. I know that my creative forces are being encumbered by the clutter, and I aim to do something about it.

But right about now, seventeen minutes into the wee hours of Tuesday, I’m missing my kids in a powerful way. So I’ll post a few pictures of our final days and moments together.

On the day before she left, Alden and I drove to Rock Hall, a nearby fishing community that happens to have a West Marine, to buy her a life preserver. She was sick and not in the best of moods, but in spite of this, I think she felt pretty fancy in her new duds. You decide.

As for Kato, since Maryland is hot, hot, hot these days, he has been traipsing around in nothing but short-sleeve onesies. We dug into the recesses of the closet in search of attire more appropriate for the tundra. Here is an outfit, courtesy of my sister Lindsay, that should keep him toasty when the cold winds blow.

At first, he was like, “WTF!?, it’s 95 degrees outside.” But then he took a longer view, noticed how stylish he looked, and let his true colors show.

At the airport on Saturday, Alden’s funk continued. She clung to Monkey and refused to give me a proper farewell hug. I tried to be philosophical, remembering that she is, after all, two.

Kato, the constitutional opposite of Alden, never turns down an opportunity to snuggle. I believe he’d smile and gladly embrace a snarling dog. We’ll see if this wide-eyed optimism proves to be his undoing. But in the moment, I couldn’t have asked for a better farewell.

I miss Robbi, too, for the record. But she’s not quite as cute as these two, so I’ll miss her in less overtly photographic ways. It’s nice to think of all of them together in that plywood cabin on the bluff overlooking Bristol Bay. I wonder if they’re fishing yet. I wonder if it’s raining. So far away, my family.

Iggy’s stirring in her bed, letting me know it’s time to turn off the light and go to sleep. She gets restless this time of night if we’re still working past the hour she deems appropriate for slumber. I think I’ll indulge her. There’s another day tomorrow, after all.