Rush home. Rush to the cottage. Clean 10 years of mouse poop up. Throw out years of crap. Rush into town. Buy eggs at a roadside stand in Mamora. Eat a dripping ice cream cone. Rush back to the cottage. Clean up more mouse poop. Discover my grandfather's Second World War helmet. Rescue it from the dust-ridden closet. Rush the vacuum around. Rush it around again. Throw out more furniture. Toss out some really old bathroom products. Jump in the lake. Play cards. Drink a beer. Rush back to the city (no traffic!). See Superman Returns (eh, more on that later). Rush to the hairdresser. Now to the hospital for bloodletting. Then back home to clean the house, after leaving a spotless cottage. At some point, will it start feeling like a vacation?
Got only 150 pages read of Until I Find You. Am very, very behind in my summer reading.
My Boy is Ten
My friend Heather took this photo a couple of weekends ago. We went for a walk in the woods. It was a bit cold at first, neither my boy nor ...
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