Betsy Braddock

After spending a god awful month in the armpit of the Middle East, I am happily back in the city.

Before you ask, I am quite used to traveling to far off places but I can't help but miss the creature comforts of home. And while, I've never been a person to suffer the will of particular cravings but for this entire trip I couldn't help but want to eat swine and imbue alcohol like a typical heathen. You can understand my problem, well maybe some of you can, but for the unenlightened I was in an Islamic state for the past four weeks, so you can imagine this unexpected craving became quite bothersome.

So, while I'm back I will be around but not necessarily available for the next few hours.

Don't laugh. It's a vice and one I'm happy to accommodate.

Normally, I would be ashamed to admit
That I had a drink with a man so fit
He was quite young and even cute
With a wink of his eyes I can't refute
That the vile bastard spiked with Green Speed
My glass and now I am in need
Of a muzzle.

Since I can't find you and I've just been told you no longer live here. Let me tell you, what a surprise that was. I thought to leave a message for you here since you are still apparently able to access the journals.

Lorna,

You are an idiot.

Luv,
Betsy.

I know that while I no longer live at the school and changes are to be expected with each new term.

But I think this is broaching on the realm of the ridiculous.

I have only been away from the school for a week. A week. And though nothing I say will come as close to explaining the ordeal that is San Francisco. Someone answer me this -- who in the blazes are all these little people? I must say I found a reservoir of strength today and kept myself from pummeling the cute little urchin that helped pour coffee all over my blouse this afternoon.

And through it all, we've somehow reclaimed a Tabitha and Monet all in one week? There must've been Beluga Caviar and Dom offered to pry Monet's materialistic little hands from the depths of her substantial lifestyle.

Pete, perhaps we should look at Xavier's tactics? The man seems have a veritable wealth in recruitment skills and I'm in dire need of a human shield ala personal assistant.

I happened to notice something posted recently and I am somewhat perplexed. What were you implying when you allegedly accused me of "blonde roots?"

Still here.

So you lot know, I'll be off for a few days. If you have need of me, please feel free to make use of my email.

~E.B.

Right. I've been awake for a few hours now and I'm still not quite sure what's happened even as Hank has tried to explain it a few times already. In my illness, it would seem I've been a tad busy but can't actually recall what happened.

If someone could can explain why it feels like I've housed the New York Philharmonic in my head for the last twelve hours that'd be a lovely start.

I can say that I am proud of one thing and absolutely sure of it this time. It was not a coma.

Not to be trite about the whole matter, but haven't you lot heard of sarcasm? It's a lovely concept and I, for one, don't mind using from time to time when the mood suits me.

Considering the workload, it's a wonder how any of the boys got anything done. For the last few weeks, I've been mostly working out of my quarters and the Obs Deck. There's honestly no possible way three people can fit comfortably in Pete's old office without someone winding up licking their wounds in medlab. Which means I may have to rethink my decision of giving up my old office, which I also stupidly gave up last term once I realized the likelihood of my teaching courses in the interim.

Oddly, while scavaging for food, I happened to look out the window and it dawned on me that it was officially summer. Yet, it still feels like winter to me.

Seasons are simply a state of mind.