brilliant

White flakes falling softly, gently into inky blackness. No, not snow – my beloved’s sunburned back is peeling all over my slipcovers. It was a really bad burn. He seemed to have a good time on his business trip though, finding the time to go surfing a couple of times and shopping for new snowboard bindings. His suitcase was weighted down with books, including two of the new quality paper reissues of Ian Fleming. But, the real surprise was a string of pearls – not big, dowdy Barbara Bush pearls. Take note of this, fellows. I had always wanted pearls, and he remembered. It’s nice having him home, snuggling after the alarm clock goes off, conversation over a pot of tea.

I want to make pancakes now, so more later…