a day in Paris

When I imagine my travels, when I place myself in different destinations and try to feel if it's a good idea to go there, whether it's a good fit for a particular journey, I do always start with Paris. Should my travels include this city that I once thought of as my most sacred escape destination? This time I was certain that I should. The last few visits to the city were with family, the younger one in July, my older granddaughter in March, and last year, I spent my Parisian days with friends from Poland. Each of these trips was of course magnificent and special, but I take in Paris differently when I am there with someone else. I worry about my fellow travelers. I look at the streets through their eyes. I want to share this city in the best way I can. I lose myself in their experiences, not in my Paris.

 I thought this time, alone, I'd start with a day of just Paris. 

My flight from Detroit was fine. I suppose diminished a little by my reading an article (thanks, NYTimes for the timing!) on the bed bug infestation in Paris. Hotels are the least of the problem. The little bugs apparently are everywhere -- subways, movie houses, you name it! The city is geared toward eradicating the menace before next summer's Olympic Games but that doesn't do me any favors this week. So, mental note: do what I do in New York: check the mattresses for telltale signs! Scan the car seats in the trains. Be vigilant! Or, ignore the whole todo and cross your fingers that you'll be lucky. I choose that option!

We land in a very wet city, but looking at the radar maps, this may well be the only wet hour of my trip. And in any case, it really doesn't matter. It's just me, and I dont mind rain. 

For the first time since Covid struck, I go back to riding the train from the airport. No more taxis! There's the price difference, but too, trains are infinitely more interesting than cab rides. The traffic problems in this city are horrible and you spend way too much time just counting the minutes until you can finally leave that confined space and breathe in some real city air. On the commuter train, you can people watch. I do a lot of it today. The train passes through the east "suburbs," known to be enclaves of an immigrant population. When you stay, as I do, close to the Luxembourg Gardens, you almost believe that Paris is mostly a white city. It's not. France does not collect census data on race, but it does ask about your country of birth. In the last decade, close to 20% of people living in the Paris metropolitan area were born outside of France. Most came from Northern Africa. There's also a sizable group of ethnic Chinese and a very small percentage from southern Europe. All these are surely among the people I see getting on and off the train as I ride into the city. And I think about their lives here and whether they've achieved success, whether they feel French or, like the Parisian baker who won the prize for the best baguette this year (he happens to be from Sri Lanka), whether they still feel strong ties to their home country.

The ride goes by very quickly. And I alight at the Luxembourg stop and come out to face the Gardens. And all I can do is smile.

I'm staying in my favorite room in my beloved Hotel Baume. WIth that simple view that I've grown so fond of over the years.

When I was in Paris in July with the young family, I couldn't get the connecting rooms we needed and so I had to look elsewhere. I found another hotel -- one with an additional star even (they rate everything in this country!), and it was very nice -- but I missed the Baume. I missed the team of people I've grown to know and love. (After a Covid era break, bisous (cheek smooches) are back!) I missed my view, I missed the pleasure of being on this quiet street so close to the park, so close to everything that's familiar. So, good as it was to try another place just once, I am back to the Baume and I bet I wont ever stray again!

I'm hungry! But let's not overdo the meals here. It's way too easy to eat big bready breakfasts, to stop for a delicious lunch and then to take in a full dinner. That's a lot of food. I must go easy at first. Still, I'm hungry! And I'm heading in the direction of Cafe La Varenne. Indeed, it's on my way! Shouldn't I stop at this most favorite lunch place? Of course I should. The perfect snack -- a plate of 3 ripe French cheeses, with a little salad on the side.

(chocolate shopping at corner chocolate store, just because it's nice to pop one at bedtime!)

(this is the true giveaway of my nonFrenchness: I have never owned a pair of shoes that looks anything like any of these)

(selfie, to prove I'm really here!)

In the late afternoon, I have tickets for a special exhibition at the Musee d'Orsay. Paintings from the last two months of Van Gogh's life. Moving to Auvers (near Paris), from the horrors of his years in Arles and the asylum at St. Remi, Van Gogh was looking to stay close to Dr. Gachet (friend, depression doctor, art collector) and to his brother. In these two months, he painted some seventy canvases, forty of which are compiled at the Orsay. 

At the Musee d'Orsay, being farsighted pays. If you buy tickets early in the game, before the exhibition has landed, you can pick an hour of entry and this will allow you then to budge all lines. 

Yes, this exhibition draws crowds, especially French people but not only. Still, it is so superb, that you hardly notice the onlookers. You are drawn to the text that describes the painting and the circumstances behind it...

(Dr Gachet)

(reminds me that the Worldwide Dairy Expo is in progress in Madison and I am missing it!)

(dive into this painting: pretend you're there!)

It is almost overwhelming! Such tender beauty and such turmoil!

(this is believed to be his last painting, done in the morning of the day Van Gogh committed suicide; tree roots...)

(But really, perhaps this one is the one that really gets to you...)

If you dont leave choked up, then you're made of sterner stuff than I am.

(So long as I'm at the Orsay, I peek in at the fifth floor Impressionists. This will be the one time in my life when I will ignore Monet. I am so focused on Van Gogh that everything else seems, well, almost too charming.)

(a Van Gogh in the d'Orsay that comes from an earlier era : two years before his death. A "starry night" at Alrles, just before Van Gogh was hospitalized)

(at the Orsay, if you find a window onto the city, you'll have yourself a really good view)

After I leave, I walk along the Seine...

... and I think about passion and talent and mental health. And I think about how museums create an opportunity to get really close to magnificent art. And how we, the humble populace are so appreciative of this raw talent! Think how many people have studied the paintings of Van Gogh and continue to crowd around his artwork!

[Being a person with a camera, I can hardly grumble at others with their phone cameras, but I was amused today to see how many raised their phones to snap everything in sight. It used to be that you couldn't take pictures at all in special exhibitions. Then the rule was you could take pics but you couldn't use flash. These days, it's free rein! The only downside with all these phone cameras is that they require a really close approach to the artwork, so that the people with these phones are always blocking your viewing pleasure. Still, they want to examine these paintings again when they get home. Who can blame them?!]

(Walking back, I encounter countless scenes such as this one, with Parisians doing what they do best...)

Evening: I booked a dinner at a restaurant that's totally new for me and a bit more particular than what I normally would choose for a solo meal. La Table de Colette. I dont know how I heard of it, possibly from my hotel people, but everything about the place touched my curiosity: the emphasis on the local vegetable garden of a farm by the sea, the eco-emphasis on everything -- from green appliances, to seed saving and notes on carbon footprints of the items on the menu, the fact that the chef is a woman (still a rarity in France) -- Josselin Marie.

It's an excellent meal. You must choose one of two fixed priced settings: a five course one, or a seven course one. I went with the fiver. There were bits of a fish accompanying one of the courses, but otherwise, it was totally vegetable based. I loved two of the dishes totally: the pumpkin soup (photo below) and the cassis cake.

 

It's very late and I am very tired by the time I return to my room by the Odeon Theater. Tomorrow I leave, but tonight I feel so very full of Paris.

travel day

A beautiful morning once again. Sunshine, delicately warm breezes, a light morning mist. I feed the animals with a bounce in my step. 

And then -- Ed, are you up? I'm going to do the bike loop. Want to come?

From Ed -- aren't you leaving soon? He must be looking at my unpacked suitcase. Wow, you are committed!

Well yes, it looks like I'm downright obsessed. But the fact is, these rides with Ed have been wonderful and I will make time for them! Packing is secondary.

We do our loop and talk about a trip he and I may do together in June. No flights needed! 

Mostly though, we pedal the hills and vales, past ponds and misty grasses...

Onto familiar trails, so familiar!

Looping over to Lake Waubesa -- serene this morning. As if sharing in the calm of our ride.

And then home again. For breakfast, on the porch, with a few dahlias picked for these last morning meals outside.

And then I do pack, quickly, lightly, and I'm off. To the airport. To Detroit, where I have a long layover, but it doesn't matter at all, because it all fits into my plan for a period of quiet. A friend had asked -- what do I plan to see? What's my agenda? Well, I have a vision and includes seeing this maybe, and eating that, but honestly, it's all very loosey goosey. The absolute imperative is that I dont feel rushed, that I dont feel compelled or obliged. 

Where am I going? Initially to Paris, but only for one night. The next day (so, Wednesday), I'm catching a train. More on that later. For now, I'm just watching passengers board the plane and wondering about their travels and their destinations. Shorts means south, jackets -- stay up north. They fill the aircraft, I turn toward my kindle, and we're off!

with love...

Sunday

Ambition: it can knock you down flat, right? Why or why would anyone my age choose to ambitiously bike over to Belleville Wisconsin when they live on the farmette and they're 70 years old? Well, here are a few reasons:

1. It's the second day of Second Summer. A gorgeous day with plenty of sunshine and with that feeling of lightness that comes when the sun is your friend. Perfect for biking!

2. As I said, I'm leaving tomorrow and a longer bike ride will give me a chance to spend the day entirely with Ed, doing what we love doing together -- exploring the places around us. Within driving or, in this case, biking distance. Sort of. 

3. Our winter CSA farmers -- Sung Haven Farm, located outside Belleville -- are hosting a fundraiser to create opportunities for kids with disabilities to come and visit the farm. We cannot say no to that! 

4. And of course, it would be cool to visit their farm and see where all our winter spinach comes from.

5. It's good to vary your biking routes a little. Or a lot. I admit, this is a lot of variation. With hills, which bother me less on the electric bike, but still, they require effort. Which is good for me, no?

With all this in mind, I walk over to feed the animals...

We eat breakfast...

And we set out.

And it is a pretty ride. After the initial hills to get us to the bike trail, we stay on a fairly flat run, until we have to veer off on the rural roads again. And then we have more hills. But hey, all this will make us stronger if it wont kill us first! (Do note that it did not kill us.)

At Snug Haven, Bill (who, along with his wife farm the land here) had told me to take the path up to the top of the hill before we come down to where the veggie growing and partying and eating is taking place. For the view. And it is some incredible view. I cant think of a better one in our county!

And then we go down, for the food, the drinks -- donations by Madison's best meat purveyors, salad makers and fruit bar bakers...

And I make a silent auction bid on a coffee table (wait, what?! a new piece of furniture?? I will explain...), and then we walk over to see the hoops that give us such wonderful spinach and carrots and green leaf veggies all winter long...

And now it's time to bike home. The energy levels are always lower on the return, but we do it!  In total it's only 1.5 hours of pedaling each way (Snug Haven Farm is just 20 miles southwest of our farmette), but even one way is more than we usually do in a day.

Still, as we bike side by side, I tell Ed that nothing that I will do in the next week will give me more fun than I've had today. Sure, there will be other benefits. Aplenty. But this day ranks high on the glorious meter!

So now, what about this coffee table (which I unfortunately do not get)? And what happened to the used couch bid we put in last night? Well, not surprisingly, the couch owners ignored our low ball offer ($200 and they were asking for $350). Ed was unconcerned. We'll find another. Here's where I put in a plea: how about an Elm Lawn new one for just under $1000? I knew he'd not go for it. But he softened just a bit. He looked up the couch we'd placed a bid on, found it on Amazon and, too, found that we could buy a "damaged box" one for less than the people were asking for the used one! Ed does like a deal. 

He tells me -- let's sit on it for a while, even as he knows I wont sit on it. I am terrible at sitting on anything. And so we buy it. To be delivered next week, with whatever damage there is. I mean, maybe it will be unnoticeable damage, right?

And since we are improving our living space, I told him that it's high time I got rid of the end table on wheels which is goofy and wobbly. Hence the bid on the lovely cherry wood table. Which I did not get. (I'll keep looking!)

I cook dinner then. For the young family. It's all the more lovely to see them because I'm heading out and so our routines -- with the kids, with clocking in with the parents -- will be disrupted for a while. That's always the downside of leaving. You leave your sweet beloveds behind. But not today! Today we feast!

(After dinner, Ed puts away the hens and feeds the cats -- a chore that Snowdrop has always loved to help with. I think Sandpiper pretty soon will join them in this!)

(Done!)

And then I clean up and snuggle on the couch with Ed and I'm thinking -- I should pack now. Surely I should pack now. But it's too good just to sit and watch a show with him. Munch a square of Toblerone. Exhale. Tomorrow: I'll throw a few things into my carryon and take off. Tomorrow! 

Saturday

The warm spell is here this weekend. A beautiful Second Summer. A gift that always comes to us in Autumn thanks to a shift in the jet stream (so I'm told). I pull on a pair of shorts once again. Heavenly weather!

On my morning walk, I look for color. Inevitably the annuals are the showoff queens now. They introduced the growing season and they will end it with the first frost. From what I can tell, that first frost is not going to happen in the next half month.

Immediately after dealing with the animals, Ed and I bike to the downtown market. The ride is with the prevailing wind and so we get to the Capitol Square in record time -- 35 minutes. (A bit longer on the return! To be honest, a lot longer!) Ed asks -- what are we buying? I answer -- nothing. I'm leaving on Monday and I have already cooked up containers of chili for him. And of course, he has the steady stream of melons plucked from the farmette lands. We are set, food wise, for a while. Still, I check in with one of the farmers about winter spinach delivery and of course, I admire the flowers. Plenty of beautiful flowers!

There is an "off the square" event today -- it's centered on cheese. You do know that Wisconsin is responsible for producing 48% of the country's artisanal cheeses? So wipe out the idea that it's California or Vermont! (We also do produce most cheese, artisanal or commercial. All those American Muensters and Cheddars and Mozzarellas? Mostly made here, in my home state.)

The cheese event is fine -- lots of samples from maybe a dozen or two cheesemakers. We each pick a couple to try and then we move on. (Someone asks -- do you want a photo of the two of you? It's such a good view!  And then they chop off the Capitol building.)

To Madison Sourdough. For their croissants.

And now back we bike, against the wind, for breakfast, on the porch!

So warm, so very warm. I stay on the porch. A Zoom call with my friend Bea from Warsaw, more paragraphs added to my GWP2.  So beautiful outside! So very beautiful!

I do weed. Some of the fields close to the sheep shed, so that I am not totally depressed looking at them come spring.

In the evening we had booked a dinner out at One and Only -- a name that surely would turn off anyone looking for good food! But, what's in a name? I had noted that they have mussels on the menu and Ed is up for a Moules Frites dinner.

Sublime! When you don't eat out so much, and when you finally rouse yourself up and out of your home base, and if you love watching someone enjoy his moules frites, well then, what else could you add to make an evening special? Cant think of a thing.

Oh, wait a minute. Evening's not over? After a dinner out, there was more? 

There was more: we had been chatting about (more like laughing at) an article in today's paper about the hardships of old age. The stiffness. The physical challenges. The time it takes just to get up and out of a taxi. And I commented to Ed that he has less trouble with stiffness than most people his age, despite the fact that he spends a heck of a lot of time on the couch. Sitting. He protested: I dont sit, I lie down! There's a difference. I told him he was lucky to grab so much space on our one couch. I can't lie down because he's already claimed it. He suggested I stretch out on the love seat. The beaten up, torn by cats orange love seat. I had a quick answer to that one -- it's too short. I learned that after my knee surgery. I could not stretch out. 

This is how we moved right into looking up used couches on Craigslist and on Marketplace (on Facebook). We were lucky in finding our one couch this way. Could we be lucky again and find a second one (ditching the battered love seat) too? 

It took forever. I was reminded of the warning I'd once read to never, ever bring used couches into your home. Still, Ed will not agree to new furniture. I know him well enough -- it'll have to be used, or we stay with the old  battered orange love seat. Of course, the listings are horrible. You couldn't pay me to bring 99% of the stuff that's for sale into our home. But every once in a while we came across acceptable compromises. We put out a few feelers (Ed insists on bargaining). Perhaps we'll get lucky. Or not. Either way, the search was an unexpected adventure, for the end of September, for the end of a lovely day.

with love...

Friday

Amazing facts about this day include: in the night, we had the last of the supermoons of 2023 shine down on us here, in south central Wisconsin. I don't think such moons ever look like the photos people post, where the moon dominates over half the horizon, but nonetheless, it was beautiful. This morning, a mist has settled in on the farmette lands. Cool, lovely, calm. 

But not great for biking the rural roads. I feed the animals and fix fruit snacks for the kids and breakfast for myself. Ed's busy with a work call and today I don't want to wait. 

Another amazing fact: it's the last September day of school. That means a whole month of early mornings, and classroom demands, and friendship intricacies has whizzed by for the kids. And for me.

And yet another: the spigot has been opened and the water is pouring out. That's the best way to describe my GWP2 (Great Writing Project No.2) right now. I am both thrilled and overwhelmed with the ideas that are forming in my head (and more slowly, but very steadily -- appearing on the page in the form of sentences).

One more: I'm two days short of completing a month of closing my movement rings. That means I surely will make September 2023 my most vigorously active month yet. Still, I do not intend to continue with the ring closing insanity. I'm concerned that I'll become a David Sedaris, who, by his own words, cannot go to sleep unless his exercise goal of 21 000 steps per day is met, even if it means fake walking in his airplane seat while flying over the Atlantic. Obsessions are hard to let go of, so I'm hoping to stop before it gets the better of me. The question is -- can I keep on biking/hiking without being crazy about meeting some arbitrary goals?

And this, nothing short of super amazing: I fit it all in! we biked, we hiked, I weeded, I danced. Some days are like that. It's like getting a string of green lights when you're in a hurry. It just works in your favor. So, too, the day -- a beautiful one, with clearing skies and gently cool breezes -- struck all the right notes.

Photos from our bike ride and hike:

(right by the bike path...)

We encountered a guy mowing down a huge swath of land through the prairie and, too, the woodland we love so much. When he took a pause, we asked what was going on. Apparently they're putting in a branch of the bike path here, right through our beloved hiking spot. On the downside -- the serenity of the place will be disturbed. On the upside, when we do our 45 minute bike loop, we can avoid more of the roads and cut through this way.  I darn glad I'm back on a bike! Our neck of the woods is exploding with bike paths.

In the afternoon, I pick up the kids. 

And despite the fact that Friday afternoons are rather packed (there's the farmhouse stuff -- reading, eating, playing -- and there's his violin and her ballet), they convince me that it is absolutely necessary to get an ice cream at Tati Co! Well okay, I do want to support the new coffee shop...

And miraculously it all runs like a smooth glide over a sheet of ice without a single ripple in it. And he gets to his violin lesson on time and she gets to her ballet class, her long hair done in that required bun, on time!

Amazing. Small things, tossed together to form a smooth and satisfying whole.

with love...

Thursday

Never have I felt so close to a famous author as today! Let me explain: I woke up with an idea on how to begin my GWP2 (Great Writing Project No.2). Indeed, the idea blossomed in my head. Content came flying. The story took shape. It was so good! I got up quickly, waved absently to Ed who looked up with a question mark in his eyes, one I did not bother answering. I went downstairs and began to write. A page later, I paused. The animals had to be fed, my bicycle needed a morning spin, with Ed today, breakfast had to be fitted in. 

And then I was back at it. And as the words flew and the pages multiplied, the brow furrowed, the excitement fizzled, and the first attempt to put something into written form felt feeble and not at all like the brilliant idea I had had in my head. It felt awkward and boring and dumb. 

This is when I remembered Ann Patchett's essay, "The Getaway Car: A Practical Memoir about Writing and Life." In it she talks about exactly this: your story idea as it first hits you is perfection itself. The trouble starts when you begin writing it down. When words get in the way of a clean sail. Here's an excerpt from her essay: 

This book I have not yet written one word of is a thing of incredible beauty, unpredictable in its patterns, piercing in its color, so wild and loyal in its nature that my love for this book, and my faith in it as I track its lazy flight, is the single perfect joy in my life. It is the greatest novel in the history of literature, and I have thought it up, and all I have to do is put it down on paper and then everyone can see this beauty that I see.  And so I do. When I cant think of another stall, when putting it off has actually become more painful than doing it, I reach up and pluck the butterfly from the air. I take it from the region of my head and I press it down against my desk , and there, with my own hand, I kill it. ... Everything that was beautiful about this living thing -- all the color, the light and movement -- is gone. What I'm left with is the dry husk of my friend, the broken body chipped, dismantled, and poorly assembled. Dead. That's my book.

Eventually I had to put it all away. I had a dentist appointment which normally would be a bother, but today I was glad to have as an excuse to get up and out of the house, away from the computer, away from my GWP2. (Even though it was a bust of an appointment as the computer generated crown did not fit.)

And then it was kid time!

I'd promised them an ice cream today and so this was our first stop. At Tati Co, in my neighborhood.

And now we come to farmhouse time. I'd say that finally, toward the end of September, Sparrow is happily ensconced in farmhouse routines and Snowdrop has mostly accepted the necessary sharing of time and space with her little brother. The period of adjustment is behind us I think.

Evening... I used to be an evening writer. Posts for Ocean, book notes and chapters -- they all were formed and then edited in those late hours, worked on until I could no longer keep my eyes open. When I travel, this is still the case -- I write and edit Ocean stuff at the end of the day. Tough as it is to do it then, there's just no other time for it. But here, at home, if I don't get started on a post before dinner, then I am in trouble. And book writing? The earlier the better. I'm plum out of breath by the time dusk takes hold. And so tonight as well, I forget about everything and concentrate on doing nothing. With Ed, on the couch. Because it's just so fine to end the day like this. Letting go of great thoughts, high hopes, letting go of everything except that precious moment of closeness that comes from doing not much of anything important side by side.

with love...

Wednesday

Well, it's time to restock the candle supply. It's tricky: the candles that don't ruin your lungs (soy, flaxseed etc) are expensive and buying something online that has a fragrance is risky. I don't like pungent sweet smelling anything. I'm always on the lookout for that gentle whiff of a forest. Maybe with a red currant note. Along with birch sap, pine needles, crab apple, leaning into a forest of firs by December and maybe tomato vines by March or April.

You have to trust your seller here and unfortunately, it does not translate into consistency. I love Brooklyn Candles for their Christmas tree scent -- it really is fantastically close to having a tree in your house. But I don't love their flowery stuff. And Kobo -- they're the ones with the tomato vine fragrance, but why oh why do they have that marketing ploy of selling their rustic pine candles in boxes that "you can plant?" One commenter noted with glee that she has 120 acres of planted pines and so she will definitely plant the seeds in her forest. Well now, good for her! But honestly, even if we had a 120 acre forest, I would not enjoy digging up a place to put in a cardboard box with a few seeds stuck to its interior. Spare me that chore, especially in the winter.

This year, I'm putting most of my candle funds (candles are that expensive! they require a savings plan!) into Skandinavisk. I've not been burned (!) on their gentle scents. Indeed, today I lit their Fjord candle (the day called for it!) and I have to say, it's the best investment against gloomy weather I have ever made. 

[A note to those who care about environmental factors and air quality: candles, no matter how delicate and how closely they resemble a pine forest or a bed of tomato vines, are never as good or healthy as a walk in fresh air and the fragrance is not "natural." Nonetheless, companies like Skandinavisk do strive to use ingredients that aren't going to kill you or the environment. Believe me, flaxseed wax is far better for all of us than cheap candle wax which is often made from cattle by-product. Or from tropical plants, which of course contributes to tropical deforestation. I read all the product info I can find when I buy a candle, which does require deconstructing marketing gimmickry. I have to say, it's always safer to dig into European suppliers, because they have to comply with far stricter health and environmental standards than we do. And as I'm learning, the Scandinavian countries along with France really are ahead of the pack in their attempts to improve on product sustainability and the health benefit score card. So, this year, my Hygge plan includes a lot of Scandinavian interventions. Which is only natural (!), as Hygge originated in those countries.]

So, breakfast, with a cat. Or two. And Ed. And a candle.

I should note that by the time we sit down to the morning meal, I'd already walked the farmette lands...

... and fed the animals (so complicated in the morning! Five hens eat in the barn. Five cats eat in the sheep shed. One cat eats on the porch. One cat eats in the farmhouse, but she is reluctant to dive in unless her best and only buddy Dance is nearby, who, unfortunately is great at stealing her food. So you have to be clever and work fast until everyone is fed). 

... and I went on a solo bike ride in that window that seemed to be rain-free. It was rain-free! Mostly. (Ed stayed home because on Wednesdays, he does a mega solo ride later on.)

(they are restoring wetlands across the road from us...)

(enter: fall colors)

And then I did my candle purchasing.

With laundry and ballet thrown in for good measure.

Keeping to this kind of schedule may make you wonder how on earth I'm going to ever produce any GWP2 (Great Writing Project 2) pages in the years before me. Especially given my involvement with the grandkids. Sometimes I'm with you on that one! Where am I going to find the necessary hours?

Winter: a writer's best friend is that dreaded cold season. (With a jumpstart in Autumn, but not September Autumn. More like November!) It's not that I am doing nothing right now. When I'm biking (or hiking), I think about the new format with which I'll be working. I think about story lines and character development. And part of me wants to then sit down and get to it, but I know that this is not the time for it. Soon, but not this week, not next week either.

In the afternoon, the two big kids are here once again. There's excitement: tonight is the night of their (future) high school's homecoming parade and they can march in support of it. The kindergartner, who has done this in previous years as a sister-tag-along, is thrilled to be at long last marching as a real honest to goodness school boy. It takes so little to make a five-year-old happy!

(At the farmhouse, they sometimes overlap in their play, but lately, she has gone back to storytelling with the use of her dolls. He's gone back to puzzles, though these, too, can be improv tools. Both kids are not quiet in their solo play!)

In the evening Ed bikes and I listen to the quiet of the house. Dance insists on a thorough, uninterrupted petting session so I give up on trying to jot down first thoughts on the the GWP2. You could say -- darn that cat! She hogs the few free minutes I have left today. Or you could say -- she is adding years to your life so in the long run, it's a win.

On tomorrow's bike ride, I will think how to allocate my time in a way that would include a selfish block of minutes with no distractions. Are you listening, Dance?!

with love...