Perfectly lovely, all things considered

I always think of the taste of sunshine as being the difference between the tomatoes you buy at the grocery store, even the soi-disant "vine-ripened" ones, and the ones that you actually pick off a vine in your backyard. Right now we still just have a tiny handful of ripe cherry tomatoes, but we should have more soon.

My mom is out of town, which means that all of our meals involve the use of the grill--steak, hamburgers, teriyaki chicken. My little brother is still never home. My dad and I have been playing cribbage (I skunked him thrice and beat him again once) and drinking cappuccino and floating in the pool. Right now we're sitting up on the hill and watching the elk (who have been permittted to grow ginormous antlers for some reason) and the bunnies and the squirrels. Very peaceful.

Last night I had this dream ( Cut for people who hate sentences that begin with 'last night I had this dream' )

The wren who lives in the birdhouse on the fence has come over to sing to me now.

Perfectly lovely, all things considered

I always think of the taste of sunshine as being the difference between the tomatoes you buy at the grocery store, even the soi-disant "vine-ripened" ones, and the ones that you actually pick off a vine in your backyard. Right now we still just have a tiny handful of ripe cherry tomatoes, but we should have more soon.

My mom is out of town, which means that all of our meals involve the use of the grill--steak, hamburgers, teriyaki chicken. My little brother is still never home. My dad and I have been playing cribbage (I skunked him thrice and beat him again once) and drinking cappuccino and floating in the pool. Right now we're sitting up on the hill and watching the elk (who have been permittted to grow ginormous antlers for some reason) and the bunnies and the squirrels. Very peaceful.

Last night I had this dream ( Cut for people who hate sentences that begin with 'last night I had this dream' )

The wren who lives in the birdhouse on the fence has come over to sing to me now.

GIP! (2nd in a series)

When The Woman in the Wall came out, I was thirteen, and I could not possibly have identified with anything more perfectly.

Upon rereading, it's still every bit as funny and smart as I remembered, and still rather alluring, as well ...

GIP! (2nd in a series)

When The Woman in the Wall came out, I was thirteen, and I could not possibly have identified with anything more perfectly.

Upon rereading, it's still every bit as funny and smart as I remembered, and still rather alluring, as well ...