I have bruises on my hands from punching snow balls.

The book could not have been more gratifying.
Finishing it was both exciting and horrifying, as I did not want to give up the this thing I had grown to love so.
It is only every year or so that I feel this way about a book. The last one was Steinbeck's Winter of our Discontent, which Jeremy gave me with a bit of foreboding. But it was true. I guess that was two years ago.
I have been trying for years to read Hemingway, unsuccessfully. Old man and the sea was not a great starting point, though its the most highly lauded.

anyway, I did it. And it was not for goal-oriented purpose, but for convenience and it was good. I love a good war novel.
I got a bit sentimental looking at Vanessa's pictures from her Chicago trip, almost three years ago. Her pictures of the exact things I miss.

I filled up my whiskey glass too full. I begged Miles to send tortillas and black beans. Oh god I miss burritos.