At 5 a.m. Chuck turned on the bedroom light (it's touch-sensitive, unfortunately) and then began patting my cheek with his paw and licking my eyelids: "Just wondering if you're awake, Dawn. Are you awake? Are you, are you, are you?" Standard invasive cat behavior, but he sure does know how to cloak it in wide-eyed innocence. So, yes, the answer is, I am awake, and the kitten is now full of breakfast, and we are curled up together with a couch blanket, and everything has turned out exactly like Chuck hoped it would.

Yesterday evening I lit the wood stove for the first time this season--just a small fire to take the edge off the modest chill and also to see how young Charles would react. He was thrilled by the flickering flames but thus far seems sensibly wary about getting too close to hot metal. Let's hope that continues to be true.

We really didn't need a fire last night. I could have put on another sweater. But few things are as sweet as sitting by the embers with a beloved and a silly kitten. Coziness is a great comfort, and why not be happy.

I think I've finally blocked out the entire long-poem class. The syllabus will need refining, but it now, thank goodness, exists from beginning to end. This is among the more complex online classes I've invented--so much material to get through, as well as a great deal of planned interaction--so carving it out has been challenging. But the hardest part is now done, and I can let it stew for a few days before I start picking at it again.

I've also made a bit of progress on the Baron retrospective and hope that I can find time to do more on it this weekend. I still have to can the catsup I made earlier in the week, and I want to do some yard work, and T and I are going to drive down to the bird sanctuary tomorrow for a walk along the salt marsh. But with the Poetry Kitchen planning more or less out of my hair, maybe I'll have the wherewithal to make some real progress on this very difficult essay.

Life is kind of overwhelming at the moment. The car troubles are a heavy blow, and that sinus infection has kicked me in the head, and friends are in pain, and my work responsibilities are unwieldy. But it's Saturday morning, and I am sitting with my little cat under my new birthday lamp. I'm drinking my second small cup of coffee. Rosy dahlias adorn the mantle. The refrigerator is groaning in exactly the way it's supposed to groan. The books on the table smile at me. Oh, world. You are a mysterious lover.