It was so cold in Chicago yesterday--windy, in the teens for much of the morning, and then warming to an un-warming 25 or so. So J decided we should go to the Garfield Park Conservatory and wander around the 1910s-era greenhouses . . . palms and giant ferns and exotic flame-colored ground covers and and breadfruit trees and mangroves and, unexpectedly, a room stuffed with every-color azaleas and daffodils and roses and daisies and tulips, an artificial temperate spring, very hallucinatory, especially when combined with the snow squall that smacked us in the face as soon as we opened the outside door.

This trip has been everything I hope it would be: loosely planned activities, lots of walking and unexpected conversations, varieties of delicious food (so far, an avocado, kale, and egg bagel sandwich made by the kids; a fantastic meat and pickled-veg sandwich from an long-established Italian deli; very spicy Thai takeout from around the corner), Scrabble and card games and chatter and cat goofiness. It has been so cozy and comfortable, and also very, very much like not being at work.

This afternoon: the ballet. Tonight: 5 Rabinitos, my very favorite neighborhood Mexican restaurant. In between times, reading and reading and playing with cats and mooning out the window and reading some more and being so glad I'm here.