Hello.  There was a rainstorm, a brief semi thunderstorm…and the warm air that has visited us as turned deliciously cool on this first day of spring.  It’s still cozy and gray outside, but the North wind, blessed wind, is billowing through my home, especially the widows of the Ernest Hemingway Room, to the point of providing complete fresh invigorating air…God, I’ve been happy here.  As I write in the EH room, the North wind is billowing through my hair, worn down in an intense defiance of air-appropriate hair.   I’ve a glass or two of Bardolino with crusty bread, a glass or two of Pinto Grigio with no ill attempts.  The crows  are cawing with gusto in this fresh air…what do you think of  it all…a Fresh Cotton candles burns to St. Joseph with my purloined lemon…isn’t Joseph a most beautiful name, or are you just stuck on Arthur?  What would a reasonably attractive woman with an incredible soul mate link to a man think about same man who threw her over because of a twisted, ugly and former has-been with his equally twisted daughter be thinking?  Name recognition…oh, Lord.

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