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.

thanks, ike.

Holy falling tree limbs, Batman! What's left of Hurricane Ike (and there was a LOT left in Ike's tank) blew through Cincinnati yesterday afternoon. We had about 4 hours of sustained tropical storm-force winds (gusts were recorded above 75 miles per hour). There's a remarkable number of trees, debris and power lines down in our neighborhood; streets are closed and traffic signals are out. We lost power at 2 p.m. Sunday and it just popped back on about 10:00 this morning; apparently, 90% of homes and businesses in the city lost power. I'm at home today, as work is still without power and closed. (Snow day!!!)

The wind velocity yesterday was eerie. The huge trees in our neighborhood shook and swayed like we couldn't believe. After we lost power, the house got really warm, so we sat on the side porch and watched the massive oaks across the street rattle to their cores. I'm surprised the big lodge-pole pine on the corner opposite our house is still standing (I raked bagfuls of its needles out of the front yard this morning).

Here's what's weird: Rob and I figure Wrigley knew the storm was coming before it hit. He was unusually clingy yesterday, and he begged not to be left behind when Rob and I both left around noon. I hopped in the shower just as the wind started to kick up around 1 p.m. yesterday; when I got out, I found Wrigley in our bedroom closet -- the front door had blown open and it startled him so much he went into hiding.

We made the most of it: We grilled dinner and then dined on the side porch, drank a bit too much wine, listened to sports on the transistor radio, went to bed early. Wrigley and I went for a long walk and then discovered that the coffee shop just up the road was one of the very few businesses in this area that had power. They were packed.

Naturally, the local TV news has already branded this "Blackout 2008." I'll have to get the T-shirt.

it's not really soup weather.

Except that it is. I scoped out a recipe for Late Summer Minestrone as I was perusing the NYTimes.com Wednesday food section, and it sort of begged to be made this weekend. So I did. A few minutes' worth of chopping (including our own beans and tomatoes), a few minutes' worth of simmering ... and voila. We won't have this for dinner for another night or two -- soup always needs time to develop. I'll put a bunch of it into the freezer; it'll be amazing come January.

dinner with doofus.

I spent most of the past week in Chicago, hosting-slash-attending a HOW conference for freelancers. It was the first event we've done for this group, and by all accounts a home run.

Friday after the conference wrapped, Bill picked me up and we spent a fun weekend together. He introduced me to Algerian crepes and to Vietnamese food that afternoon and evening, and then we hit a neighborhood spot Saturday morning for brunch. The place bills itself as featuring coastal southern cuisine, and it was all grits-and-gravy goodness.

We hit two (count 'em) farmers markets on Saturday morning and stocked up on items for an all-veggie dinner: a rainbow's worth of cherry tomatoes, some fingerling potatoes, some local broccoli, arugula, goat cheese, beets, bread ...

quite the menagerie.

Among the creatures that inhabit 645 Kroger Lane are, for a few weeks in late summer, a colony of Walking Sticks on the Side Porch. We first spotted a pair of them two summers ago; last year there were three and now there are six. They change color and shape over the course of the season, going from a sort of soft and "unripe" state to more stick-like. Perhaps they like to call this house home, too.

things don't change.

Here we are on a gorgeous August evening; we're cheating fate because the weather is stunning, and the moon is nearly full, and we're satisfied and nicely buzzy.

We're two days away from our 18th wedding anniversary, and in toasting the occasion with a freakin' amazing bottle of Italian red (complemented by an equally amazing dinner, which I'll get to in a second). We're recalling those late-summer days when we were newly together, when meeting up back in Bloomington for the school year was an exciting prospect.

I remember the early days of our relationship (does he like me? will he call? will he call AGAIN?) and then I remember that we settled into a comfortable togetherness that was easy and effortless early on, as it is now. I've always felt a rush of excitement on seeing him (like running into him "accidentally" when I knew he'd be studying in the Union), and that translates today, 20 years later (plus a few months). I felt that again on Thursday when Wrigley and I watched and cheered as Rob ran a 5K in the neighborhood. I'm still smitten.

The thing that constantly amazes me is that our home life, as uncomplicated and routine-oriented as it is, is so close to what we envisioned during those early days when we talked about our dreams of a life together. And our vacation time is so close to our everyday life, too. What's more, it doesn't feel like we're working particularly hard to achieve it: Our silly little contented life comes naturally. Something tells me that we might be onto something.

So on our 18th anniversary (and on Wrigley's 10th birthday, and Henry's 13th), we're all feeling content and happy. Which is, I suppose, how it should be.

Oh, so about dinner: A recipe from Beaulieu Winery for fennel-spiced steak: A rub of toasted and ground fennel seed, peppercorns and coriander dusted heavily over a steak, which is grilled, sliced and served atop thick slices of summer tomato. The tomatoes came from our garden, and they tasted like the sun that was shining when I picked them today. It's one of our very favorite recipes, perhaps mostly because it's so rare. It just doesn't fly in February.

Happy anniversary, B. I love you more than I can say. But then, I think you have a good godd@&m idea.

otherwise.

On our very first trip to Martha's Vineyard in 2003, we discovered one thing about the island: Pie is as much a part of Vineyard life as field-cut flowers. Drive anywhere on the island, and you're sure to find a sign advertising home-baked pie with local fruit just as sure as you'll find a little roadside stand with charming bouquets of flowers for sale.

On our first visit, we stumbled across Pies and Otherwise, a little gazebo in front of a house where the husband was out front selling blueberry, peach, apple and mixed-fruit pies that his wife had baked. On subsequent trips, we've always been sure to have a pie on hand for dessert. This year, we ran across Pies and Otherwise rather late in our visit (after we'd, ahem, purchased a pie elsewhere). Nonetheless, we stopped, and I bought a couple of raspberry squares -- sort of a pie in brownie form. Delish!

Only the next day did we read in the Vineyard Gazette that the baker, Eileen Blake, had recently passed.

When we returned home, I determined to try to replicate the raspberry squares. I managed a decent attempt just today. I used 2.5 pounds of mixed red raspberries and blackberries, and doubled up on the amount of cornstarch called for in the recipe, in hopes of duplicating the deeply intense, thick fruit filling we'd enjoyed from the Pies and Otherwise fruit squares (I suppose these qualify as 'otherwise').

Here's the thing: After a tremendous (but simple) dinner of burgers and corn risotto and excellent wine -- and a lovely August evening where we've got the house wide open due to the cool weather -- I feel just as blissed out here as I did on vacation.

last day.

Our last day on Martha's Vineyard is waning with a light shower, which seems a nice way to end the visit. We managed to squeeze in a morning at Espresso Love and another big canoe trip before the skies clouded over. Just now, we're back from town, where we grabbed a gift for the neighbors who are taking in our mail, a souvenir for ourselves and a dozen shrimp for tonight's dinner.

Rob is busy packing the car. I'm in denial.

for a slow day, a lot to do.

Yesterday (Thursday), the forecast called for rain. So we planned accordingly: Instead of a day of canoeing or golf, we figured we'd take advantage of gloomy weather and take a tour around the island. No matter that it turned out to be a beautiful day when the clouds lifted (sans rain) mid-morning.

We started with a drive toward Vineyard Haven and then headed on from there. We stopped in at Chilmark Pottery, where we'd picked up a couple of fun pieces (currently in use at home as salad bowls) on an earlier trip. We weren't in the market yesterday, so we moved on. We stopped at an adorable little farmstand called Fiddlehead Farm (cute!); they weren't yet harvesting much of their own produce (tomatoes are still a week off here), but they had a bunch of neat gourmet and imported items. From there, we wandered on to Martha's Vineyard Glassworks, which we'd also visited previously. We watched the glassblowers work and bought two "floats" -- brightly colored globes modeled on those used by Japanese fishermen to float their nets. They're super cool garden accessories (we have two at home in the bed by the front door) and these will go in the back by the patio. Nice souvenirs.

Then we moved onto Chilmark Store, which was insanely busy with the lunch crowd. No wonder: they make a wicked good New York-style pizza. We fueled up with a couple of slices (and a few bits of whole-wheat crust for The Hairy Friend).

Next stop: Morning Glory Farm for some lettuce and tomatoes for last night's dinner, and then to Edgartown Seafood for a slab-o-halibut. Rob grilled the fish on the charcoal barbeque out back; it was perfect, with a salty, peppery crust on top and nicely moist inside. If I never have fish again, it'll be OK. We topped it with a tomato/garlic/basil/balsamic/lemon/oliveoil combo, much like what Uncle Dave & Regina did last weekend. Awesome.

a two-hour tour.

Again yesterday, Wrigley donned his yellow Float Coat and hopped willingly into the canoe, and we enjoyed a couple of hours paddling around Edgartown Great Pond. We explored far and wide, going up into several coves and checking out the homes scattered along the shore. It was bright and sunny, an ideal day to be on the water.

Today is the opposite: cloudy, rainy and dark. Which is perfect: It gives us reason to do some on-land exploring. We'll hit Morning Glory Farm early for some produce for tonight's dinner, then maybe head over to Chilmark and other parts of the island.

Speaking of dinner, last night's was again epic: Fresh (!) scallops the size of my head, pan-sauteed and then served over a succotash of sauteed onion, corn and teeny green beans, with a butter/lemon pan sauce over the top. I will never have better scallops. Eating seafood out here completely ruins it for the stuff we get at home.

We just might not leave.