After the shouting.

This week, after the departure of my brother and his family from the region, and after my folks came down from the mountain, aka their condo up in Park City, I have accomplished the following:

• saw The Dark Knight again (with singing son)
  
• mailed my manuscript to a friend who very kindly offered to read it and give me advice
• saw The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants 2: The Streets (with make-up artist daughter)
• read three novels
• took several naps
• made cookies
• cooked lots of vegetables
• sat outside in my chair to observe the morning
• taken daily morning walks with Bruiser
• bought a beautiful yellow shirt
• bought purple moccasins at Target, which, according to The Sartorialist, everyone is wearing (although the ones on the blog aren't from Target)
• had lunch with make-up artist daughter, her husband, and the darling grandson
• rode my bike to the post office and the bank
• saw Pineapple Express tonight with the historian
  

It has been, in other words, quite a wonderful week. It's the kind of week that could persuade one that ambition is for suckers.

This morning, when I was walking Bruiser, listening to Le Fil (Camille) on my little shuffle, the sky was trying to make up its mind about raining or not. The whole time, it sprinkled, and I had a wonderful feeling, made up of equal parts of pleasure in the coolness and the music, a sense of physical well-being, and a measure of unspecified nostalgia, maybe as a result of the fact that it's late summer. Something about the weather also made me feel a change in the air--though there will still be plenty of sun and plenty of heat.

Maybe I'll figure out a way to make a poem of that, maybe not. But right now, I have to get back to my novel.