• Sweet yellow peaches, two rainbow handfuls of heirloom tomatoes, chartreuse and burgundy glads, and fresh wild Monterey Bay salmon from the farmer's market at the end of our street (wish you were here!)
• The best kind of houseguest, who fits seamlessly into our life and makes our home her base to come and go.
• An afternoon of errands, punctuated with lunch at a favorite restaurant, and an hour or so cuddling the bunnies and kittens up for adoption at the pet store. I think Lisa will be a volunteer there soon. (She's such a softie)
• Several hours in the studio with photos and paper and glue. The quiet joy of working through a block.
• Sunday morning breakfast at Cafe Brazil (Lisa's favorite thing to do on the weekend)
• A trip to Costco, brief enough to keep my hairs from standing on end, but long enough to score new lighting fixtures for the bathrooms and to pick up photo prints.
• A handful of paint swatches from the hardware store and a roll of scotch tape. I'm auditioning brick red and terra cotta in the living room, eggplant and inky purple in the hall bath, honey yellow in the well of the kitchen skylight. (We are loving making a home)
• Puttering in the garden, pampering and repotting house plants. Feeding the vegetables and herbs, assembling and reconfiguring containers full of color, turning and admiring the roses I thought were dead but which have made a stunning comeback this year. We brought the houseplants back into their spots in the house, and told them how much we'd missed them.
• An unexpected gift of a fresh abalone from our neighbor, who went diving in Mendocino on Saturday. Impromptu dinner with the friend we called for advice on how to cook it. We were abalone virgins, but are now fans. Served with lightly steamed organic green beans and a salad of those heirloom tomatoes and pearl mozzarella drizzled with fig balsamic and oil. Confetti of basil on top. For dessert, a bit of the goat milk ice cream I splurged on earlier this weekend and have enjoyed experimenting with the most decadant ways to serve it. This time, with strawberries and raspberries and a few drops of that fig balsamic vinegar. (Our friends don't believe us that we eat like this all the time, but we do.)
• Curling up to sleep next to my wife, the house still and dark, a small black cat at our feet. The sound of tumbling water from our neighbor's pond.
"I had a really nice weekend, sweetie."