I went to Portland for the weekend (the day really, if we're going to Be Real about it, which - Let's), and it was everything I wanted and needed it to be. Which is to say, Ari and Suzanne picked me up super duper early Saturday morning and I got there and Wiz and I went out for coffee and talked and went to a thrift store and bought prayer candles en masse, and then we went home to her beautiful farm house, of which I took no pictures, because I have been delinquent about taking pictures of anything, and we watched Veronica Mars and drank tea, and Ben came back from the forest with twenty pounds of chanterelles, and the three of us spent the afternoon buzzing around the warm kitchen, making chanterelle potato apple gratin and chicken dumpling soup and sour cream chocolate cake. We talked a lot and ate a lot and hid from the rain, and then we watched tv projected on the living room wall, and went to bed early, and woke up and ate more and watched more tv on the living room wall, and then it was time for me to come back home. It was lots of good Welch time.

Now I am back in the big blue house, prepping for what promises to be a week of crazy. I have a lot to write about and I don't really know where to start, or where to end. It's like writing a sponge. So many entry points.