Belly-laughs from the Shakespeare kids at the comic twists of Twelfth Night, and an outburst of “Darn!” from the eight-year-olds when I said “That’s all for today.”
Early morning soccer game, mist blurring the eastern mountains.
Rilla’s bare feet filthy after running across the damp sand of the parking lot, not yet baked dry after Thursday’s downpour.
Hide and Seek in the Yellow House, seven times in a row.
Momentous phone calls.
Four closets tackled, two trunkloads purged.
Rilla meets Madeline for the first time and agrees she has exactly the right idea of how one ought to address the tiger in the zoo.
CYBILs reading ramping up already: two new novels devoured, fourteen more on order.
Indian food from our favorite place, thanks to a sweet friend.
Five more hours until Mad Men.
A Little Smackerel of Nothing
A Daddy’s Double Standard
The Month That Ate My Brain