The honeysuckle is riotously blooming out back. I cut some tendrils and put them in a champagne glass that we haven't packed yet -- saved out in case we need to drink champagne. One never knows. I have the honeysuckle next to the camp chair, which is one of the few chairs left in the house. Now I get little whiffs of summer whenever I am sitting there.

We rented a cargo van just for one day and made good use of Tris's muscles to take everything that won't fit into the back of the car to the storage unit. Consequently, we are eating on a little side table, the three of us huddled around it like Macbeth's witches, and we are sitting down wherever we can find a place. Jonathan and I are now sleeping on a futon on the floor, just like we were doing in 1986, only the floor seems to have gotten lower down than it was when we were in college. And harder. I congratulate myself whenever I get up off of it, perhaps too much.

And today I found out that Stanford University Press has accepted my new book -- one that I have been working on, rather intermittently, for almost ten years now. It started sort of as almost a joke -- just something to say whenever anyone asked me what I was writing when I wasn't writing anything. But the more I thought about it, the more real it became and somehow somewhere along the way I actually started really working on it.

And now I have five weeks to finish it up. Tomorrow, I will write a methodology. I will not mention that it all started as sort of a joke.