I’m in a frenzy of moving preparations, taking down pictures, stuffing clothes and books into boxes, donating food to food banks. We’re having a bizarre heat wave, in the nineties all week, so we’ll be moving from a place where the roses are still blooming, butterflies are still fluttering, it-s-still-too-hot-to-go-to-the-park-til-after-6, where the vineyards are just barely turning colors, to the rain-soaked, fifties-to-sixties Northwest wintertime in just a week. It’s like moving seasons instead of just locations.

On an unrelated note, I think I’m going to write a little essay about women writers and ambition. Maybe I’ll wait til after all the boxes are gone to think about that, though. Back to stuffing boxes!