The sound of a deep exhale, and feeling lucky for some

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How to accurately describe the sound made when you exhale in a deeply satisfying way? It's audible, to be sure; at least mine are. At the least there's the whoosh of air bidding the body adieu. Sometimes it's almost slightly horsey, like an equine's exhalatory snort though through the mouth rather than nostrils. In any case, a good exhale is one of life's simplest pleasures, and I have just experienced several. I was up many times last night , in part because of Ol's persistent beast of a fever which meant, wait for it, that he did not return to school today as I'd hoped. I felt full-scale lunatic this morning, don't remember driving Jack to school and only vaguely recall getting myself (and Ol) to the dermatologist. There I realized I'd never had breakfast, had a huge grocery list to wade through and a call to make at 10:30.

Oliver watched more TV today than I'd hoped/planned for.

Why on earth, you might be wondering, has she exhaled at all? Well, because my mother-in-law picked Ol up at 2:45, took him with her to get Jack and is now at baseball practice with them. As Tom is still out of town and I have to teach in Virginia in the morning, the boys are spending the night at Camp Grandparents tonight, and I am infinitely grateful and enormously relieved. I am so behind in all aspects of my life, and this afternoon intend to catch up in a few small ways.

It's gorgeous outside, and our sugar maple has started its annual speed-of-light transition from green to fluorescent yellow leaves; by tomorrow the full canopy will be a brilliant sunburst and by early next week, we'll have bags upon bags of leaves to rake up. Oliver and I raked the whole yard yesterday but you can't tell now; the leafy carpet is way too dense for even a blade of grass to peek through.

After a large party I'm catering a week from tomorrow and the one order I've taken for Thanksgiving, Em-i-lis Catering will be going on holiday via one-way ticket. The break will be welcome and good. Off to pull a pumpkin cheesecake out of the oven. It smells to the nines in here.

The simple things, and a great quote

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Friends, have you tried Flor? It's a carpet square company that makes a huge assortment of patterned and colored tiles from recycled materials (which are then recyclable again; and Flor pays for you to send them back) from which you can design and craft a rug. I am an enormous fan of Flor, especially since it introduced free shipping all the time; this is a recent and exceedingly welcome change to company policy. Additionally, Flor's Fall Sale is going on now, and for 25% off I felt inclined to revisit the dingy, narsty mess of tiles that was our living room "carpet." Put more simply, I didn't ask Tom when I made the quick decision to buy twenty new squares and, once they arrived, put them together in an ir-returnable way. Good news quickly: he likes it, I love it, and it's soooo much softer (and infinitely cleaner) than Version 1.0. You can literally scrunch your toes in this puppy. Hell hath the first animal to adulterate this shag. www.em-i-lis.com

Have you read M.F.K. Fisher? Firstly, I like her moxie in using all three initials rather than Mary or Mary Frances K. or whatever. M.F.K. I have a niece (well, she's my cousin's daughter so probably some sort of once-removed crap officially, but I'd rather call her my niece because a) I love my cousin like a sister, and b) once-removed sounds SO removed.) Anyway, her name is Mary Frances, and she is definitely feisty, and I call her MF which her father suggests might possibly be misunderstood. I get this. But I don't think anyone's going to think I'm calling her Mother Effer so consider it safe that instead they'll think...hmm...MF? Probs Mary Frances but who knows?!

But back to M.F.K. She died 21 years ago but is still considered to be one of the best-ever food writers ever, and indeed she is delightful. Observe:

"There is a mistaken idea, ancient but still with us, that an overdose of anything from fornication to hot chocolate will teach restraint by the very results of its abuse."

Is that not a fabulous opening line? Not least after following the essay title, "Once a Tramp, Always..."

I had for dinner toasted baguette, a lot of buffalo mozzarella, both slathered in good (but not good enough, damn you Montebello) olive oil, and roasted veggies. Plus wine. Plus, probs, another brownie. Do you know how good a meal is made, or IS, when you have hot bread, fresh mozz, good oil and salt all coming together in your mouth? Lawd a' mercy. I can go to bed happy (with the disclaimer that Ol returns to school tomorrow, mother of god).