Spending a lazy Sunday lounging in bed past noon after a long night of fondue and wine, making egg scramble with chick peas and chard for breakfast, listening to my Bare Trees record, thinking about the summer and what I'm going to do with myself until it warms up here a bit. The weather has been so sporadic: its like a Florida winter but its mid-May, the sun is struggling to break through the sheet of silver clouds and my record is scratching after the last track.
Next weekend promises a hazy 48 hours in Portland with many friends to speak of and the warm of a friendly hug.
The bird wags her tail as she braces the wind next to a shady spot on my pillow, drying off after an impromptu afternoon bath. Funny, she bathed right after I took a shower; could she be mimicking my hygiene schedule?