Yesterday, as I scarfed down a bowl of butternut squash soup at the counter in Tara's kitchen, the rainstorm ended and her windows glittered brilliantly. Like right this minute, I had no time to stop and take a photo of it because I was late, late, late-- but, as you can see, I did.

Last night, as we stood hip to hip brushing our teeth, I said to my husband something like,

"oh man, I can't believe I just got home and tomorrow I have to leave at 7:30-- go back to Manchester and then on to Boston and then home again."

To which he replied with all the gallantry we know and love so well:

"Sorry you have such a fabulous life."

So, when next I see you, I will post more photos from Tara's apartment (no worries Ta, no interior shots), the rather absymal shots I took of my artwork before getting it shrinkwrapped (no vanity here if I can share really lousy photos of work that even in the best light is of questionable merit). And stories of my travels including a bit of heartbreaking miscommunication a la "An Affair to Remember" although, fortunately I was not hit by a bus-- although, when I discovered how badly I had miscommunicated I wished I HAD been hit by a bus.

I leave you with one of the brombies who are really wishing they saw more than the flurry of my ankles coming in and out the door.

Bisous.

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