P arrived last night, right on cue, and much to the cat's delight. Now, on this cold morning, the cat is shuttling back and forth between beds, trying to make the most of a good time.

It's a work day for everyone. Tom is beginning to sigh into his coffee, and soon I'll bustle into my morning chores. This afternoon, P and I will drive north for tomorrow's class. The cat will be lonesome and annoyed.

Thank goodness the weather god has decided to nap a little. Other than cold, there's not much to worry about road-wise. We've got a big packet of surprising play scenes, a bunch of reading and writing prompts, and an energetic mother-and-son comedy team. I'm pretty confident the class will be a splash hit with the kids. P's decided to focus on very recently produced plays, ones that the kids would otherwise not have come across. He thinks it will be exciting for them to spend time with hot new work, to dip into the life of the contemporary theater, and I agree. He'll be bringing New York City to the woods. But of course he's also from those woods, which is the big reason Monson Arts has invited him to teach. He grew up down the road; he attended the same schools. He's a central Maine boy, and he's back.