I savored the blissful, 72° day with a walk around Greenfield Lake. With four miles behind me, I saw two little boys ahead of me. I noted that they weren't very old, perhaps 8 or 9 years old, and thought nothing more of them as I passed by without shifting my pace.

Immediately, I heard whispers—fervent, excited, and curious-rimmed whispers. I heard the melodic tapping of little running feet and then a tug at my shirt. I stopped and turned around.

"Well, hello," I greeted.

They returned the greeting and the shorter of the two inquired, "How come you can walk so fast when you're so little?"

The other added in, "We're little!"

I replied, "Well, I walk lots and lots every day. I built up my gingerbread muscles!" I groaned inwardly. I really have no control what comes out of my mouth! Most of my humor fails by adult standards, what I did I just subject these poor, innocent children to?

While I was heading back into the ring for round 5 of me vs. my idiocy, the boys were looking at me with eyes the size of silver half-dollars. (are those still around?) In a slow motion synchronization, they looked at each other, then to me, and then back to each other. In unison they squealed, "FAST AS FAST CAN BE! YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME!" and raced each other in the other direction, giggling all the way.

For the entire last mile of my journey, I decided that with the whole of adulthood rolling their eyes and grimacing at my attempts at humor, I've finally discovered my peer group. Little kids totally get me.

Grown ups are so dull.

The lights are much brighter there
You can forget all your troubles, forget all your cares
So go downtown, things'll be great when you're
Downtown — no finer place, for sure
Downtown — everything's waiting for you!

Saturday, Miles and I donated to ourselves. It was a difficult week for Miles. He was splitting his time between work and visiting his mother in the hospital. Emotionally and physically, he was exhausted. Over the course of last week, I finally felt myself fitting into this version of my life again, but it has been an emotional adjustment. Friday was particularly difficult for me as I learned the unhappy results of my mother's latest scan.

Saturday dawned dreary and drab. We breakfasted luxuriously on oatmeal and coffee before snuggling on the couch. 8 hours of slumber later, we felt alive again.

Sunday, with the sun shining bright and the birds chirping, I refused to spend another day inside. I begged and moped and pouted to go walk around downtown. Finally, Miles gave in.

The fresh air freed our captive worries. There's not really much to entertain you with out of this excursion, as all we did was walk and talk and hold hands. But—!

I did manage to restrain Miles from running into Elijah's as we entered the vicinity. Elijah's happens to have some of the very best seafood chowder that I have ever tasted. Carolina Chowder, if you will. We're big fans. You get within a block of the riverside restaurant and that's seriously all you can smell.

He kept groaning, "Honey, I'm so hungry! Chowder would be so good! We'll ask for a table on the deck just as you like?"

"We've got food at home," I replied sternly, thinking all the while, "God that smells good."