We came home through a beautiful warm San Francisco afternoon today, down through the canyon where everything smelled like eucalyptus and summer. We hung out on the patio a little, where the iris is blooming and the big yellow rose is showing off and jasmine and angel’s trumpet and who knows what all. We played with the cat who was terribly amusing and energetic as a dervish. I cut up the most satisfying huge red tomato and sliced roasted beets that I dressed with balsamic vinegar. Delicious. We talked about our wedding, we talked about R Man’s grandmother, we talked about our friends. I played with the cat some more. It was the most perfectly ordinary evening, but more importantly it has been the most perfect evening, period. In the scheme of things, it really hasn’t been that long since I was staying up late blogging to keep from going to bed and worrying about R Man, alone in the hospital with his chest cracked open for heart surgery. So yeah, I’m perfectly happy with a perfectly ordinary night.