To my husband, when you read this: If you just re-read that sentence with the tone and inflection of of Alec Guinness, or better yet, Ewan McGregor doing Alec Guinness, then come find me and we'll make out.
I want to write about how I have Not-Been-Fun-To-Live-With, money stress, the downside of lots of help at work (less overtime), my favorite new book, and the joys of Kevin's new job. But it's officially late where The Weather is Here, I Wish you were Beautiful (after 9pm). And I have important downloading to do onto my Mp3 player. Who needs a name, because writing that over and over is old. She's not an iPod, but maybe an "I" name. Not Isabelle/a though, because EVERYBODY is naming their baby that, if they aren't using Sophia or Olivia. Or if you are a teenager, Neveah. That's Heaven spelled backwards, you know.
Therefore, a photo essay.
Patrick, after a fine meal of squash.
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