Amanda shares these free-form posts each Sunday night with the shape of her weekends. I thought this week I might do the same. (Yes, I accept the accusation that it’s a cop-out on composition and narrative.)

loud, upbeat music turns a friday night sulk into a dance party.
saturday is a day in the kitchen:
i find clothilde’s quince recipe
and make applesauce
and roast a pumpkin.
dishes. so. many. dishes.
clean sheets for the bed.
clean towels for the bathroom.
never out of pj’s.
a nice long chat with rudi’s mom.
a supernatural british tv show may be too scary for me.
finish knitting a sock.
start a new book.
today starts with the farmers’ market:
more quince for cheap,
the first rockfish of the season,
beets to go with the cabbage i bought last week.
then out to hyattsville with rudi, john, and sarah:
lunch at franklin’s
followed by a poke around a tangled skein.
secret service at politics and prose. didn’t see the famous politico’s family member.
rudi notices their vanilla syrup for my steamer is hand-made; no wonder it’s so potent.
the grocery store is less crowded than feared, and the cats appreciate being fed.
home in time for an accidental nap on the sofa, then the super bowl.
cast on a hat for a swap gift — pretty purples and quite squishy.
the pats didn’t win, but you couldn’t begrudge the giants their first and fourth quarters.
betty white, darth vader, and clint eastwood had the best commercials. matthew broderick and snoopy did well too.
madonna was okay, but needed shorter heels.
cocoa before bed.