There’s something going on in Iowa right now, I think. Is anyone running on the “improve Cygnoir’s immune system” ticket? I could use it. FunkyPlaid, too, has succumbed to the creeping crud. We’re having a quiet evening together, he with his puzzle of various beiges, and me with my notebook.
I’m not kidding about the beiges. Here’s another view:
Zen lounges on the rug near us, finally comfortable enough to let her guard down outside her inner sanctum.
Writing from: somewhere far away from Iowa. Listening to: the soft thwick of puzzle pieces on a plastic mat.