Good morning from Portland, Maine, where I slept the deep sleep of a swamp monster and am now feeling refreshed and energetic, if somewhat confused about time.

We got out of bed at 4:30 a.m. CT and got home at 2:45 p.m. ET, and weirdly both the flight and the bus arrived at their destinations early, TSA (for a change) did not pull me aside and pat me down me suspiciously, and the cat only bit me slightly when I got home. I'd call that a good travel day.

Today will be filled with odds and ends: restarting my exercise regimen, prepping for Sunday's chapbook class, writing up a style sheet for the editing project I just finished, filling out paperwork for student mentoring at the Telling Room (I'll tell you more about this later), vacuuming up vacation cat hair, baking bread, restocking the fridge . . .

I say "restarting my exercise regimen," but Chicago was an exercise regimen in itself. James estimates that we walked 3 to 5 miles every day, plus we ice-skated and climbed many stairs. It was wonderful to be outside so much, to be hungry and red-faced and windblown, to sit down to sturdy spicy meals. I love eating neighborhood food, and Pilsen's neighborhood food is Michoacan-based--not heavy on the cheese and beans in that Tex-Mex way; more often, mole-sauced braised meats--pork, chicken, beef, goat: very simple to look at it, very wonderful to taste.

But vacation is over now, and I'm back to depending on my own cooking. Sadly, my garden largely faded away in my absence. There's still some kale to pick, and some sage, but the rest of the herbs and greens have folded their tents in the cold. So I'll have to start switching over to store produce, which always makes me gloomy. At least we came home with our suitcases full of corn tortillas and Mexican hot sauce.