Pastafarians

It was a dark, rainy and windy Sunday. My mother made a large dish of pasta and we all dug in. I ate in my office, fork in the right hand, and book in the left. When I brought my empty plate back to the sink, nose still glued to my book, the kitchen was very quiet. Under the low kitchen light, my mother and my son were sitting eating pasta, nose glued to their own book. Three generations silently eating while lost in a book…perfectly content. I burst out laughing and said: "What a family!"
Can you tell we don't have very formal meals, in my home?

Not much on the radar this week. SYWRD is running a marathon in Victoria at the end of the week. I wonder if there is a correlation between being in shape and having a sense of humor. Vince, if you're around, say hi for me. He's easy to spot; he's a man, with dark hair. Seriously though, my best wishes to him. His ambition is to finish with both brains and shoes. I think the shoes shouldn't be a problem.

On my map, very little. I saw TLM walk in, Saturday, freshly showered, wearing jeans and a loose striped shirt. The kind of vision that makes your knees weak. It'll take me two days to recover. A male friend of mine was telling me, last week: "Ah, Bridge, but we men are so weak before the flesh…" Oh and do you think we women are not?