Reading: Sherman Alexi’s War Dances
Drinking: Whetstone Cider Works' deliciousness (see below)
Thinking: How, after three days spent in Brooklyn walking streets, dipping into cafés for stunningly crafted lattes, and surrounding myself with the intoxicating company of old friends, I don’t at all mind returning to this house amidst trees or the three feet of snow on the ground or the un-shoveled path or the cold woodstove or the smell of dead mouse because now it’s 9 o’clock and Avah’s alseep and Ty’s teaching and the stove’s ablaze and it’s pitch black outside the windows and so quiet all I can hear is my mind’s lilted song and all I can taste is fermented apples and all I can think is You’re brilliant, Sherman, and also: Home. Sweet. Home.