I crawled out of bed tonight for a late bachelors supper of toast* and wine around 10pm. My book is getting good and I came home after the longest day, took a hot shower, and retreated to bed to read. This never happens, and it was actually rather nice. Sweatpants; who knew?

Up now with strange energy, I am trolling the internet, desperate for some entertainment. At this point little can top the patty-caking kittens on youtube. The bar has clearly been set. I revert to answering emails.

Trying to find some photos for a client, I got lost in a wistful perusal of unedited Iceland pictures from September. Unedited meaning there are 3000 of them. I'd like to write more about that trip sometime. For now it's better left encapsulated in the confines of my iphoto.

I did find these (and lots of other pictures of sheep). The top photo reminds me of me and my mookie. We're in a big fight right now, but I still love him. On good days it's us against the world.

*my friend Jenna has brought to me a loaf of rosemary bread from the promise land. (OK, Buffalo) And it is the most ridiculous thing, toasted with butter and a dab of my mothers tomato jam. You're like loosing it right now just thinking about it, right? Well this loaf is almost done, finito, toast (ah, intended?) and I almost cried tonight about it. I considered emailing her mother in Buffalo and asking her to barter this bread for soap, an elaborate UPS trade criss-crossing NY state - a sort of honest fishes and loaves sort of scheme transpiring, (except with soap, not fishes obviously) the film cuts to quick cut footage of artisans making bread, soap, the line of travel dis-dashed on the whimsically drawn cartoon map...