I discovered New England has mountains. The Boy and I jaunted up to the Berkshires and Vermont this weekend to remind ourselves we exist outside of the swirl of poppycock (I'm bringing poppycock back, I just decided) that is life in Boston.
This short trip involved many key entries of the Big List of Stuff I Love, including (but in no way limited to):
really good apple pie,
baths and terrycloth robes,
and, of course, Mr. W, himself.
It's easy to forget, when all I see is human-sized rooms and bright lights in dusk darkness, how stupidly fortunate I am, after all.