Much though I miss Alice when she's not here; much though I wish that I, like she, were at this moment watching the US women's volleyball team thrash Bulgaria in the Galen Center (at least, I'm trusting in the outcome ...), I'll confess that I welcome, occasionally, being able to dine on goats' cheese and crackers and a glass of wine, and read a book (indeed, the only book, that I know of, on Flashback in Film) that will find its way into the flash and memory chapter (think flash bulb, flash drive, flash memory, too ...). This is farmers' market cheese from a week or so back, still in perfect goaty form. Only ... on one's own, reading, glancing up at the end-of-storm clouds and the sunset, checking periodically that LucyFur hasn't jumped over the wall in her constant pursuit of a feathery mouthful of towhee, it's all too easy to eat not-very-mindfully, and then realize that dinner is pretty much over.
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