Even I can make no ado about a receipt for $30 for pictures ordered, so instead we will fast forward to the near past and my weekend in Sequim for Pete's 50th birthday party. The days were blue, green and gold. Saturday morning, I did yoga in a pile of golden leaves. The skies were blue from end to end. The evergreens stretched tall and green into the sky. A bald eagle flew from one. A pileated woodpecker worked on another.

I went off of my 2-week-old diet, and gained back the three pounds I had lost, but I lost them to cheese blintzes, cajun fish stew and dirty rice, chicken parmesan, and birthday cake. All in a good cause. Saturday afternoon Caroline came with Taj, and helped cook.

Saturday night we tripped 'round the fire, laughing with Johannes from Finland, as he told us that the demographic of Finnish people who would vote for Bush consists of old, divorced men who had dropped out of high school in their blighted youths - old, bitter, dumb guys. Sunday morning I did dishes. Sunday afternoon, Pete and Hall filled their new water jet tub for me, and I sank beneath vanilla bubbles until you could have sucked the marrow from my lifeless bones.

Dew fell like rain on my tent in the mornings. The river ran cold and swift over the rocks, waiting for the winter rains. Afternoons were sunny and lazy, reading on my flocked mattress. Evenings were warm with friends.

Left Monday afternoon, with China Cat Sunflower on the stereo, and that, along with Rider, Samson, and Terrapin got me to the ferry.

Home is a good thing.