A decent weekend.

Saturday we started the day at the George and Dragon with a full English breakfast: eggs, sausage, grilled mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, baked beans, chips. With beer, of course. Not healthy by any stretch. Nothing like a pint to wash down your eggs over-easy. Could do with some toast though... the chips did a poor job of sopping up all the runny egg goodness.

Some shopping and housework, and a haircut. The haircut was a necessity, as Saturday night was the annual military party. Jason was feeling under the weather, so I went by myself. Much fun and shadiness.

So, Labor Day. San Diego, perhaps? It is probably time to see the ocean for a day or two.

I'm overtaken by the desire to make something rich and buttery and French. Chicken in cream sauce. Boeuf bourguignon. Pate, for heaven's sake. Mmmm... A rough country pate with a pile of warm, crusty baguette slices and a cold glass of beer. And a simple tomato salad along side. My mouth is watering.

Sorry for the culinary dithering.... I brought home Julia Child's The Way to Cook yesterday. I can't think of another author's voice that speaks so clearly through the words on the page. It is as if I was watching her on television, or having her peer over my shoulder at the stove. Glorious.

Ah, Julia.

Raise a glass with me tonight for the passing of the French Chef.

So my mother is selling my childhood home and buying the proverbial house in the country.

I'm mildly conflicted about this, because she is now retired (at a rather early age) and I'm wary of her taking on another mortgage when her home in is fully paid fer. We're not rich, but I know she's planned out her post-work finances. She'll be fine, but I worry.

Mostly I'm pleased because the new house comes with a new guy in her life. He respects her and treats her well and makes her happy. And that's all good son can ask.

Woowoo. I got a new bike! Thweet.