Common Sense

From a story on the current Times homepage: "It's not the first time the embassy has urged U.S. business travelers and tourists to stay away from Bulgarian strippers." Well, we all need a little reminder, right?

But what I really wanted to tell you was something I was going to show you--and it's our one-gallon jar of granola, full. Only I can't find the camera. I will be giving you the recipe soon, though not here, which is a kind of foreshadowing, if you know what I'm saying. Suffice it to say, the granola has more flax in it than you can shake a stick at, and my kids love it, and when I refill the jar, I just feel so happy. "It's like money in the bank," I sighed to Michael, while I was admiring it, and he laughed: “Bailout, shmailout. We got us a big giant jar of granola!”

Meanwhile, I hope you'll read my wondertime columns, which are here, here, and here.

And here's kids instead of granola.

Oh, and p.s. if you check out the comments from the last post, you will see that Brad Pedinoff, my summer camp boyfriend from 1983, wrote in. Honestly, the whole internet was worth inventing just for that.

Take care of yourselves!

xo

Birdy's Question

"If Obama wins the selection, will she get to live in the lighthouse?"

That's what we're hoping, sweetheart.

I have columns up at wondertime here, here, and here.

And here's a picture Ben took through a piece of pink Saran Wrap. Very Seventies-Rolling-Stone-Magazine, no?


I can't believe that we were on our way to the Cape when I last wrote. And now it's school and maple leaves crunching under shoes and socks and it's wild grapes everywhere and wild grape smell and wild grape jam in everybody's yogurt. Plus, my usual fall melancholy. Sigh.

Enjoy your weekend, friends. I hope you're well.