Sunday Balk

A gray wet and blustery day -- not to mention a gritty-jittery migraine for Eric -- have nixed our Sunday brunch and walk for today -- but with teaching days behind me (or more to the point five weeks ahead of me) a vista of weekdays is opening wide for a later stroll and breakfast so I'm taking it all in stride... Reading Aliette de Bodard's "Citadel of Weeping Pearls," sipping tea, listening to the raindrops fall on the ivy leaves outside the bedroom window, scratching a spoiled purring cat's chin and not paying the news a split second's attention apart from my daily dollop of Barbara Lee.