We had dinner last night with some new friends who have an old farmhouse that is everything I think an old farmhouse should be: with a big dog, who barked at us as we drove up, but who was completely won over by a good ear-scratching; peeling paint on the outside; a big front porch overlooking the garden; a big living room covered with paintings done by friends, photos of kids and favorite places, odds and ends of projects half-finished, flowers, special rocks, driftwood, and dog hair; a kitchen full of jars of flour and beans, baskets of tomatoes and cucumbers, and a big stove; everywhere a feeling of being lived in and loved. We had gazpacho and pizza and ice cream with blueberries and talked about gardening and education and sledding.

Other signs that the universe isn't malign after all, even though all my sauerkraut went bad:
•Karl Rove is stepping down.
•NOFA offered me a job! It won't pay for a hill of beans, but it's a job! And NOFA is great. I'm not sure yet if I'm going to take it, which is silly but true.
•Ripe tomatoes! Out of our garden! I thought the day would never come.
•I have a writing group, and a good one this time. (Hi guys!) (The last writing group I went to here was extremely unfun and totally creepy and annoying and I didn't go back. This time everyone is geeky and fun I'm going to go back. I'm even working on a creative non-fiction piece that is really nearly almost fiction and I never write fiction.)
•I think it's going to rain.