Brief

There are usually fresh flowers at our apartment in Somerville, we have Jess to thank for that. Most of the time we leave them in a vase long beyond their moment of glory- like the ones sitting in front of me at this very second... wounded, deep purple, and yellow centered. They continue to die with rugged elegance.

Returning from the grocery store is Brian, (home from Obama-working in Iowa! and now unemployed.) tosses the latest issue of Vanity Fair on the table- it has a delectable photo of Kate Winslet on the cover, and promises that she will "bare all." He rips pieces of sourdough off a fresh loaf of Iggy's, and he shows me, with delighted, raised eyebrows, a brick of Presidente brie cheese...

Brian's bread, Jess's campanella flowers- (and Rose's ukulele songs, though away for the weekend) There has been so much shared food and shared life here, I can hardly ever feel sad.
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