Yesterday was a simple and lovely day. Bright blue skies, leaves just starting to turn, shirt-sleeve temperatures--a classic October gem. I spent the morning doing housework, which may not sound like a great way to spend a birthday, but in fact I enjoyed the briskness of the chore . . . opening windows, mopping floors, tidying shelves, amid answering a flurry of birthday phone calls. Midmorning my neighbor texted to ask if I wanted to walk over to the coffee shop and get some pizza from the food truck parked there. So we strolled out for lunch, and ate some of the best pizza I've had in a long time: served out of the back of a 1950s-era Morris Mini. The cuteness was pretty extreme.
Then she went back to work, and I did some reading, and then walked up to the market to buy steak, and then eventually worked in the garden for a bit until Tom came home. He started a fire outside, and I baked potatoes and made a radish slaw inside, and he produced cheese and a baguette and a special beer out of his bag, and we played cribbage outside while the shadows thickened and the cat prowled around our feet.
It was such a sweet day.