It’s a cold, rainy Saturday afternoon. I am piled up on my bed with the comforter, a little dog and a cat. The old dog is next to me on the floor. The pink camelias are bumping against the window. A good cup of Red Rose. I am watching “Midnight in Paris” on my tummy for the 20th time. But I had to press pause for just a minute to say that it just doesn’t get much sweeter than this.

It really doesn’t matter if you go away for a week or a month, you pretty much have to hit the ground running when you get home.  I did come home to a very clean house and a very happy Kobe and Rosie thanks to the attentions of their new best friend Tita, who moved in with her cat Sheena during my absence.  Besides all the usual things to catch up with, this time I had lots of birthday wishes on the machine and in the pile of mail.  So nice.

And, of course, there is the time-consuming issue of changing the time on the clocks that don’t have enough sense to do it for themselves, such as my iPhone and MacBook.  So silly.  I headed out to church on Sunday in the dawn’s early light.

After missing two rehearsals,  I had a very special treat on Sunday sitting in the congregation and listening to “my” choir sing Mendelssohn’s “How Lovely are the Messengers.”  Wow!  I was blown away.  In regard to this group, the adage about a chain’s being no stronger than its weakest link just does not apply.  And David, my Valentine, sang “His Eye is on the Sparrow.”  If I can figure out how to do it, I will post the audio of it.

And, in my absence, spring had sprung.  John, my knowledgeable and faithful gardener, had hauled off a pile of debris to the dump (euphemistically known as the transfer station) and then came back to load up some logs from a departed tree to take for his fireplace.   I keep having him plant more trees whenever we have to bid a sad farewell to one.  He once joked that he is going to have my back yard officially declared “The Jean Urbanski Wilderness Area,” an idea that I whole-heartedly embrace.  I’m having a plaque made.

I found this view peeking in my bedroom window on my return home.

And I opened Rosie’s window so she could take a better look out back (The Jean Urbanski Wilderness Area).

I did take a break on Monday afternoon to meet a good friend at the Ike Box to share pictures and details of our respective recent trips.  Jim had toured the Desert Southwest and had some great pictures.  I was particularly  interested in his visit to the picturesque and iconic seat of Presidio County, Texas — Marfa.

The population of Marfa is fewer than 2000 folks and fewer than 8000 for the entire county, and yet, like so many county seats in Texas, there is a beautiful county court house in the center of town.

 One can only wonder what sorts of cases were heard here — claim jumping, cattle rustling?  Jim rustled around in here unguided and undisturbed.

All this was just on his way to hike three national parks in the general vicinity.

In addition to the great photographs, he also brought back a coffee table book about the Chinati Foundation which he has lent me.

At the Ike Box, I was introduced to the concept of Mexican Mocha.  I am pretty sure it contained 3000 calories and was worth every one.  Nevertheless, I came home and contrived a guilt-free version.  Got it down to about 50 calories, no caffeine, no fat.  That is not to say that it is soooooo good for you, but it is soooooo good.  (Better living through chemistry?)

My excellent accountant and my brilliant financial manager work together to figure my taxes so accurately that all I had to do to get my returns off my desk was basically to hit “send.”  I really do not resent paying my taxes.  Sometimes I do wish there was a menu to choose from to indicate specifically which services I would like to support.  I’m big on health care and education but not so much on foreign wars.

And last night I escaped the household disarray to go down town to the Elsinore

to see the “old movie of the week.”  This time it was:

Too much fun!  We remembered that as children we said we were “going to the show,”  and mentioned that nowadays, we often say “film” instead of “movie” to connote a bit of haute something-or-other.  Woman of the Year is a really good show.  We also remembered that in our tiny towns, it had cost 10 cents go to the show and 5 cents for a Hershey bar. (There isn’t even a cents key on this keyboard!!)  On Saturday afternoons we  saw a program consisting of a cowboy movie, at least one cartoon, a newsreel, an episode of a serial (my favorite was Nyoka, Queen of the Jungle.)

and features of coming attractions.  It really makes no sense at all to call them trailers.

Now, in an attempt to further ignore the household disorganization, I am going to try to find something green in my closet to wear to an Irish tea party at Deepwood Estate tomorrow

Had a lovely drive home.  Paused near the summit so Roxie could play in the snow.  Stopped off in Ashland to see My Fair Lady, but I mixed up the schedule and saw King Lear, not a favorite of this old lit major.  The only line I can ever remember is “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child.” That’s a bit too ironic for me.  And this production was done in modern dress.  Silly, I thought, to have Lear come in from hunting, dressed in gear from Cabela’s, and plop down in his Lazy Boy, pick up the remote, and start watching a soccer match!  Ah well, I suppose these innovations keep the director from dying of boredom.

Up-graded to the Bard’s Inn for the night.

Roxie definitely thinks the beds here are superior to those at the Motel 6.  They gave her a doggie bag filled with, well, bags, a special cover for the bed, and some treats.

I really liked this faucet.  It made such a lovely babbling sound.

I do love babbling sounds, and went for a nice walk along the creek before we packed up to drive home.

Then spotted this tiny  little guy in a shop window and couldn’t resist bringing him home for the garden.  A perfect memento of Ashland, the Gnomes of Oakland, and my magic birthday road trip.

On Wednesday, we went out to breakfast at one of Kate’s favorite neighborhood places before she left for work. Brown Sugar.

We are determined to figure out the recipe for these to-die-for bacon-onion-cheese biscuits and are more-than-willing to sacrifice our girlish figures in the process.

That night we went across the street to an organ concert by the organist from Westminster Abbey.  Then home to bed.  Kate has to leave for work at 6 a.m. on Thursdays.

Sweet Jeremiah had to take his meals on the computer desk while we were there so Roxie would not sneak his food.  Last thing we did before we left was set it back down on the floor for him.

So we left and it really was ——

And I left my heart, this time, at the other end of the other bridge.