Woke up this morning to learn that the little northern city by the sea is under a blizzard warning for Saturday--high winds, feet of snow, the whole shebang. We'd been looking forward to company this weekend, but my in-laws wisely canceled their visit to Maine. As a result I have a leg of lamb in the fridge, all of the ingredients for coconut blancmange with tangerine sauce, and nowhere to go, so as you can see I am fully prepared to hunker down.

[ . . . they survived for days on nothing but blancmange and an old bone . . . ]

Today will be yet another this-and-that fest. I'm starting a new class on Sunday, and a new editing project early next week, so I've been trying to finish reading chapbook manuscripts and otherwise catching up on the flying ends of my life. I'm pleased to report that I had an excellent night's sleep, so that has made everything brighter. And other than the disappointment about our visitors, I'm quite excited about the snowstorm. I'm not sure we've had a blizzard since we've been in Portland. The best thing is that Tom won't have to drive to work in it and make me scared all day. We can stay home together and stare out the windows and sometimes go for little breathless walks around the block and come home and take naps and enjoy ourselves.