New Year

The glory of being home! Soup on the stove, bread proving, the second load of washing on. Stefan has a honking cold after going without his hat or jacket on a bright day with a keening wind blowing over the Hudson so he is sitting contentedly up in bed with toast and honey and his laptop, while I woke early to get milk (in a glass bottle, from a Petaluma dairy!) and walked over the hill in blessed soft mist after the drying, dry, cold New York wind.

We had three New Year celebrations: Eastern Time in the air, Central Time in Utah as we stopped to refuel because of bad weather, then Pacific Time ten minutes before we landed. I wonder about the implications of starting the New Year with both feet off the ground. Home by 2am, Suscipe sleek and plumper and very affectionate, Dee had left delicious chicken enchiladas made with Albuquerque chillies, so we glanced over the mail then happily to bed.

We were chatting with another couple in the airport and Barbara said New York smells like cooking fat. Right! More than other cities.