As you can see from this recent family photo, I am pretty much over my case of Empty Nesting Doll Syndrome.



With all my heads in all the right places, I was able to rekindle my love for knitting, which allowed me to resume work on Peaches, over the weekend. After finishing the right front, I easily slipped into this sleeve.



Despite a harrowing, four-hour trip north with She-Who-Will-Not-Shut-Up*, we enjoyed a brilliant weekend at the cottage. The weather was perfect; two cooler sunny days, followed by two balmy summer-past teasers.

*I'd rather remove my eyeballs with an oyster fork, than endure that ride again. "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star...Mommy, Gramma is sleeping now, right? ...How I wonder what you are...'Cause she's tired, right? Mommy? ..Up above the world so high...My butt hurts...Like a diamond in the sky....Someone tooted. Right Mommy? But it wasn't you. Right? Yes or no?....Twinkle, Twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are."

While I initially planned on sharing more details from the weekend, in this post, my heart just isn't in it. It feels inappropriate, somehow. And even as I was enjoying the weekend, I felt guilty. And lucky. And scared. And enraged. And inspired.

Help Is On Its Way
Saturday night, my husband and I went for one last sunset cruise on the boat. Just the two of us. And one bottle of wine.

As we headed back to the cottage, I turned for one last look at a setting summer, and was greeted by this image:


Doesn't it look a little like a fleet of angels, heading south?