I live in the best place.

It's the beginning of summer.

Yesterday was pretty and we had so many people over to drink Black Eyed Susans and watch the Preakness while making inappropriate jokes about the horse names and the lyrics to Maryland, My Maryland.

Then today was Miss Lisa's with most of les filles (aka Best Friend and astropixie, just missing Flo, who, being in France, has a legitimate excuse), then sitting on my porch in the sun, talking. Met Mrs. R's new boyfriend. Watched the Tigers win.

Then changed into a bathing suit and lounging in the sun for hours. Literally hours. Read a bit (of Hotel New Hampshire), wrote a bit, slept a bit. Now burgers (off the grill!) and corn on the cob, and Other Sisters are coming over to lounge in the sun some more. It is such a summer day.

In other news: I think I have to accept that writing for teenage girls is okay, because parts of my novel from freshman year are really good (she said modestly). I'm good at sexual tension, it turns out (my short story professor told me so once). And I'm good at flirtation and sappiness. It seems like a shoe-in for writing for teenage girls.