Jane Siberry in the player this morning. That song "Calling All Angels" reminds me of Until The End of the World and that period of my life when I was just meeting Dave but was always away visiting my boyfriend, leaving him here alone. He told me he went to see a movie in which the lead female character looked a lot like me. He went back again and again. Then when I was here to stay, he took me to see it too. I couldn't see the resemblence but I loved the movie. We own it and sometimes I take the time to get out the disc just to watch it for a few moments while I eat lunch or dinner.

But now, I'm listening to Jane Siberry and it's not only the song but merely her voice extending the feeling of that time freshly resurrected in me.

This house has found a way to be more than perfect: There is a café just a block up the street too close to bike to. This is a quiet residential neighborhood but that place was just hoppin! Hoppin, I tell you. People were filling all of the seats and the baristas were working like mad. It's 11am folks, don't any of you have jobs? It was rockin too - with Led Zeppelin. Ooo, Led Zeppelin. Dave always says, How can you like them? And I say, you weren't there that year at Oberlin with Charmian and her huge stereo system, the Peavey amp and her keyboard set up. You weren't there for the parties, for the days when she'd get down the tequila bottle, start in on the shots, leave and not come back for three days. But I was. And I liked sitting there in our lounge, a can of Genessee Cream Ale in hand, the music vibrating into me through the floor, and riding the wave of Charmian's energy.

I got marshmallows in my soy hot chocolate. Mmm! They're melted now and I have to suck out the viscous blob through the tiny mouth hole in the lid.