Love is like a bottle of gin, but a bottle of gin is not like love.

As some might have realized, I've been on a Magnetic Fields kick. I've had the "69 Love Songs" (Parts I, II, and III) on nonstop for the past two weeks. There's something about the drone of the lyrical . . . romance that fits my state of being for the past weeks. In two days, the new semester begins and it is back to the grindstone for me. I've marked out my schedule, however, to suit a person of my stress level with nice compact breaks for power naps and sack lunches. We'll see how it works out. I resumed running lab work from all fieldwork over the summer last week, which began to allow my stress and workload meter rise.

I've straightened out everything here at the house, though, or at least straightened it enough out of the odd pit that it fell into under John's sole care during the summer. He spent most of his time in the studio, without bothering for much of anything while I was away. So, after I readjusted to time differences (finally) I began to wipe up the coats of dusts that covered everything, pulled all of the brambles out of the garden, and even repainted the outside of the house, an act done on whim. It's now a . . . fanciful blue, mellow like the sky.

Anyways, I should go. I took a pie out of the oven a while ago and am now hankering for a taste.