Parfait

It's seven ayem and I've made a pasta salad with tomatoes and basil and feta and olives, a granola and plum parfait, three cups of tea and have described the plot of "Sweetland" to my daughter who said "I don't get it" about five times before falling asleep in my bed twenty five minutes in last night. I've rescued an empty can of dog food and two gardening gloves from Briar's bed, and I've listened to the headlines with Steve Inskeep and Rene Montaigne, reluctantly though because I can't get 89.3 so I'm stuck with KCRW which irritates me. J is away, again. I shouldn't complain. Today he's in Mexico City. On Saturday he leaves for Vietnam. I'm planing a two week creative project. It's burgeoning.