Today is N’s 24th b’day and K’s and my 28th anniversary.
Feels very monumental.
And, as is seasonally appropriate, I’m feeling grateful, for family and friends and connections and health — for two great kids embarking on adventurous lives; for 28 years with K; for Lucy and all her predecessors; for family and friends; for the fact that it’s not over yet.
My Vermont friend and her son came over for dinner last night. I made a big pot of this soup, which was so delicious and filling. All afternoon I cooked, while M sat, tucked into the comfy chair, writing a paper. A and her son arrived on bicycles from the city. I had a long talk with A on the porch in the cold air while K walked to the wine store. I’m so glad to have connected with her again.
We have made it to Friday.
Time for me to head home. I’m really hungry — it may be necessary to order to food from someplace else, like a place where they’ve been thinking about dinner all day long.
M is coming home tomorrow, but late enough so that I have time to move all the bedding N sent home from Maine off M’s bed. Also late enough so that I don’t have to get up at the crack of dawn to do that, either.
It is possibly beginning to feel a bit festive. I even remembered to order the turkey this morning — I hadn’t, because Thanksgiving somehow felt so far away.
Huh. I think it may be creeping up on us.
Crabby McCrabbypants, here.
Can’t explain it, but sometimes that’s just the way it is.
That is all.
(Let’s ignore that weird foam in the creek — who knows what it is, but it hasn’t rained since September, so it really could be anything.)
It rained all night and it’s rained most of today. It’s a pain in the neck and it’s lovely.
I would like to go home and bundle up on the couch. Turns out I have to give the new library copy of the Goldfinch back to someone else — apparently she had dibs, which I don’t think is quite fair, but nevermind! I will read as far as I can tonight and then read the rest on my kindle. I’m having an aversion to my kindle, for some reason. But that’s just silly.
I had lunch with a friend, and then coffee with people I’d like to know better. I have entirely satisfactory red rain boots. In an hour I’m heading home.
Not so bad for a Wednesday.
Fall! I love fall!
It’s supposed to rain, but I don’t believe it. It’s a little chilly, though.
It’s lovely to have the conference behind me. I’m catching up and life is kind of normal. I like normal.
Think I’ll take a novel to lunch with me — just starting The Goldfinch.
That building has a lovely big fireplace inside, in the room with the windows. It used to be the student union, back in the day — back in the day when my father, who died 50 years ago this month, went to school here. It is funny to think about what the campus was like when he was here. Certainly smaller.
Excellent weekend. Laundry finished, waffles, walks with friends, dinners out.
- Dinner out with my brother and his boyfriend during which we made plans for Thanksgiving.
- Sunday visit from a friend from Vermont. She moved away in 1989 and we are still friends — really friends. How lovely to remember that. And now that we are all a bit freer, there are possibilities, like travel!
- Dinner out with K and friend at another friend’s restaurant, which appears, after 2 years, to be a success. He seems happy, and that’s great.
Tornados whirled through the midwest, and M was advised to get into a bathtub wearing a bicycle helmet. As she has neither, she contemplated hiding in her shower in her (horse)riding gear. I think she did not. And luckily for us, the tornadoes went elsewhere.
I keep hearing a bunch of nonsense about how no one is majoring in liberal arts subjects anymore. Really? Both of our kids went to liberal arts schools; one majored in Russian and one in Studio Art — I just want to point out that we’re doing our part to save humanity. You’re welcome.
I have no news. Really. Which is not unpleasant.
I went to the nursery. The front steps are once again covered with plants, which I’ve got to get into the ground. Meanwhile, it’s snowing in Ohio, where M is, although it is summer in Bolivia, where N is.
Here are places I want to go —
That’s all I’ve got.