When Tim left, I had plans for all sorts of activities. I did a few of them. I also did others that weren't planned. I killed the time. I've been trying to distract myself from the "I'm not in Paris--woe is me" thoughts that ran through my head every time I heard from my conscientious... Continue Reading →
When I arrived in September, Tim was sleeping on a mattress on the floor, was using a cardboard box as a night stand, and had three whole pieces of furniture in the apartment. One of those was a lovely bed he acquired for Sophia (better than the one he was using, God love him), but... Continue Reading →
Tim leaves for Paris on Wednesday. He's got his bags packed already, having assembled all the appropriate clothes and accessories this weekend. This is the Mens Trip, a present Tim's father gave to himself on the occasion of his something-th birthday. All the men are going, eight of them, one short of a Fellowship, two... Continue Reading →
She answered the door with a skeptical look, shushing the dog. I was sure I'd annoyed her, sure I'd picked the wrong day to approach a reclusive stranger. When I told her her farm's website had indicated that Fridays were the best days to drop by, she dropped her guard a little. I said I'd... Continue Reading →
Ever since I posted the question this morning about the five songs that changed your life, I've been wondering what my five songs would be. And for my musician friends, let's stipulate that when I say "song" I also mean "piece", so we can cover instrumental music of all kinds without the annoying "song/piece" construct.... Continue Reading →
Meg Currell 