Hello my beautiful friend, a kiss for you right off. At low ebb today, a bit. Walked at the conservation area this morning but the pain in my right heel flared up, I realized belatedly as I set out hoping for the brisk pace I'd effortlessly achieved yesterday. Instead I limped, hardly a workout at all, and when I got home took an ibuprofen. Mystery pain. What's up with that? I don't have much for you today, other than my love, as always, and thoughts of you. Wondering - what's in the October archives? Arguably my writing was more serious then. But at that time I wasn't writing for you, or my writing wasn't directed towards you. The posts weren't daily, and they weren't love letters. A month of Montaigne. Listen: let's make a deal. You get me (your) kisses, maybe I'll get you some more serious writing. Wish it worked that way - I know it doesn't. Then again - how does it work for you?

Went to a charming movie this afternoon, The Kids Are Alright, in which Annette Bening and Julianne Moore play a long-married couple whose two almost-grown children meet for the first time their sperm-donor father, Mark Ruffalo. Wonderful performances, great writing - I laughed heartily throughout, but I wasn't crazy about the ending... well, no spoilers. Or why not - I thought it was going to end up a big happy messy blended family - instead the movie got kind of tightlipped and strict at the end and the Big Sexy Charming Adorable Teddy Bear got shut out - that's hardly even credible. Wish we could have seen it together so that we could compare notes. Do you like going to the movies? I don't even know. I don't remember many movie dates with you - a Woody Allen movie in Westport one summer evening (which one was it? possibly the futuristic one with the orgasmitron and the pre-Adkins observation that one day red meat would be viewed as healthy). And we watched movies on television, mostly Janus films, and ancient, absurdist English comedies, Kind Hearts and Coronets, The Importance of Being Earnest. And yet I imagine you must think about movies - and you once mentioned to me how your brother thought that maybe you could have been a film director.

As you can see I'm completely rambling, just to keep connected, darling. Jerrice has strolled into the building, as Will (is that Will?) mentions in exactly the same way almost every week, and now Women of Note is on. D is taking care of dinner tonight, grilling marinaded cornish hens and making a curried couscous salad. 59 and overcast in Shishmaref, 89 with blue skies and thin clouds here.

Love and Death came out in 1975, maybe it was that. But I don't remember it. I just remember holding hands with you on a movie line on a soft evening in Westport which though no more than a few pearls down the I-95 necklace, I had actually never been to I don't think - so it seemed quite far afield and adventurous to venture there. Oh you darling explorer - for you - Norwalk was nothing, Pound Ridge but of course - while for me - honestly, the first time I saw the Greenwich Main Street - well, you wouldn't know that I had grown up in Stamford - it was that much of a surprise. My parents said that they had done so much traveling (involuntary) as children that they liked staying put in the house. They weren't kidding.

The scent of curry is wafting up the stairs, and a song - "you and me, can you hear me, I like to feel your heart right next to mine here, I'm going out for a drive, why don't we go out for a drive you and me, can you hear me, can you hear me, I like the way you walk, the way you talk it sounds so sweet to me, you look so good in blue jeans, your style, it knocks me right out, can you hear me, can you hear me..." Jerrice just announced (& I checked the playlist) it's a song by "local female artist" Bar Scott.

Dearest, I think I will wind this down - as a post it's starting to feel like an endlessly handknit scarf - I could go on and on and on with loopy row after row of loopy stitches. I love you very much, and hope you are enjoying a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and that all else is well with you. XOXO