Dandelions, no whine

Today was rain-whipped and sunny in equal measure; I strode purposefully through a thunderstorm to mail my mother's birthday package, stepping in time to the Stop Making Sense version of Psycho Killer, and on my way back the grass was buttery with sun and dandelions. I saw a cardinal and a robin. The light was so lovely I had to come back with my camera. ( Click. )

The day started with an early birthday present of my own: heavier weights for my morning workout, which K. bought for me while we were out yesterday. They are only eight pounds—I am not what you would call ripped—but they're sufficient to make me feel like they're having an effect on my arms and upper chest. Weights + crunches + walking = sleeker j7y, goes the theory.

A week and a half later, my chin has what may charitably be called a goatee. It's feeling soft instead of scratchy, as of this morning. I'm amazed by the color variation, which I never really noticed before—I have black whiskers, white whiskers, blonde whiskers, brown whiskers. One plucky whisker is a flaming red, my personal Barbarossa trying to come out. I look more like myself now, which is a blessing.

Tomorrow, we excurse to Saratoga Springs, for to find a home. I may or may not have net access, but should be back Saturday evening either way.