restoration.

I'm slightly wasted. Rob is snoozing in a chair on the patio. It's all good.

Friday was an epically horrible day at work. The worst I've had in many years (probably dating back to my awful tenure with I.D.).

An ordinary Friday devolved into a fire-drill that had all of us scrambling and feeling pretty crabby about it. But we rose to the occasion (as we HOWgirls do), and (fingers crossed) it's looking like the problem is working itself out.

So when I pulled into the driveway (well later than I'd anticipated) on Friday night, in spite of my internal declarations that I wouldn't, I broke into tears. Rob, too, had had a rough week at work in a similarly corporate bullshit sort of way. We laced up our shoes, put Wrigley's lead on, and took a walk to clear our heads.

And so here we are, 24 hours later, feeling better. Today was a gorgeous late-summer day. A fine trip to the market (where Wrigley greeted all his fans) was followed by a productive day of inside and outside chores. That, plus better news on the work front (gotta love calls from the new boss on a Saturday) and, most important, an amazing dinner, have us all feeling better.

I think this house is protected by a Protego Totalum charm. In the Harry Potter series, the Protego Totalum charm keeps a dwelling safe from outside harm or influence; it's the charm that keeps the Weasleys' house safe and snug (it's called, fittingly, The Burrow). Our Protego charm encompasses our entire yard and home; once you cross into the driveway or step into the yard, you're safe. I can literally feel its effects.

And so, after we took a mind-clearing walk Friday evening, we crossed that threshold and were immediately under the charm. And noticeably, if gradually, the spell is working its magic and we're feeling happy and satisfied and safe.

Of course, a bottle of Rafanelli zinfandel, a pair of grilled filets and a batch of fried green tomatoes do nothing to kill the mood. Here it is at nearly 10:00 p.m., a day before the fall equinox, and the candlelight, wine, sleeping boys (both of them) and music make me feel like nothing—absolutely NOTHING—outside our Protego charm ... means shit.