This past weekend I spent Saturday night in Chicago for a friend's wedding--the most lavish wedding I have ever helped to celebrate. Best of all, the bride and groom had love-silly grins plastered across their faces the entire time. The bride did the limbo; the groom (and all 15 groomsmen) changed into black and white Chuck Taylor All Stars to better groove to the live band. Did I mention the twelve bagpipers piping in a parade into the grand ballroom to lead the 450 guests to dinner? Outstanding.
This week is all about packing. And all about reading instead of packing. We leave Boston to return to our Indiana abode on Monday of this coming week. By this time next week, I may already be "home." I am in exquisite denial. The truth is that I can be happy here or there, which is a good thing. Any transition, however, can be fraught. Change is good--in theory.
Speaking of change, welcome to my newest niece! She is tiny, but tough with lots of black hair.
In the meantime, I am typing away again on my novel. Today I passed the 50,000 word mark. (Author pats herself on the back and grins to the chagrin of her fellow cafe hunt-and-peckers on Newbury street.) Actually, my original plan for the piece was 50,000 words. It is quite clear, however, that I will need at least another 20,000 to round out the story.
For the record: since my last blog we dined at an amazing restaurant, Sorellina. The setting was ultra-cool and the food was divine. This was an eating experience made all the more transcendent by our company--a Roman and an Athenian! Go for the truffled fries--seriously the best french fries I have ever eaten (and I am, sadly, an expert.)
Ugh. Time to pack up my laptop and head home to face the boxes. Packing is lame.