The winter rains haven't started, but we're preparing for them. The sky is streaked with high, thin clouds now. I still leave the window open in my bedroom at night, but sometimes I close it half-way. Both quilts and the winter comforter are Just Enough, now. When I get out of bed, it's less than 70F in the house. I love it. The rains are coming. The palomino hills are waiting patiently.

I spent yesterday in San Jose, pretty much. Home last night. Today, I have finished cleaning Rorschach's cage, run the dishwasher and put clean things away, cleaned out the truck, done a grocery run, embarked on the laundry, changed sheets on the bed, fired off a couple more resumes. I need to finish mopping the cattery floor, then clean the rest of the house, then finish up my DE and write up the designated "cheat sheet" for Monday's midterm. (I think it's Monday --)

Don't know why I'm not writing here more lately. Perhaps it's the intimidation factor of the vast chunks of experience of the past two weekends that have not yet been put into words. And may not be, given past performance. It's still wonderful.