Ten.Four Hundred & Six

1. Slow to wake. His eyes are still closed but he's asking me what's for breakfast. 

2. We convince him that driving all the way to Buttermilk is going to be worth it. It always is. This is the last chance for just the three of us to go and do something. 

3. The drive there is one of my favorites. So much green and open spaces before driving by stately, old homes with big porches or lots of stone--and this one house a fantastic red door. 

4. Hibiscus mimosa and coffee. A full plate of eggs and bacon and potatoes. Feeling nourished. 

5. Late morning dinner session. Chicken Marsala, chocolate cake, focaccia, and salad for the family with the new baby. Last year when everyone was giving birth, I didn't have the capacity to do what I wanted to. This time I have it. And it's been too long since I cooked for someone else in this way. I remember those newborn days and the gratitude I had for each and every meal I didn't have to make but could so easily consume. In my next life I'll go around feeding new moms. 

6. So many things I want to do. 

7. The pool water is cloudy and a strange shade of green but it's so hot it doesn't stop us from getting in. I'm assuming there's enough chemicals in it to kill anything I could be potentially afraid of. 

8. But it's also a piece of propaganda. I'm just trying to be a critical reader and thinker. 

9. Loveblock Sauvignon Blanc and then a Pouilly-Fuisse. We wait for rain. It starts slowly. Then the big drops fall but not enough to thoroughly wet anything. But it's still enough to push the smell of summer rain up from the ground. Yes, it smells like hot, wet asphalt and grass. 

10. We joke about being 6 instead of 5. I am surprised at how not opposed I am to that idea.