A cold and blustery evening here in Norfolk with an ever so slight chance of snow. Yep. Snow. Not bloody likely here in the Tidewater, but nice to consider nonetheless. Perhaps it's not as impossible as one might think. If Virginia could happy go blue this election, snow here in November is suddenly probable. To complete the cold autumn evening effect, a pot of hearty beef stew is slow-simmering away in the kitchen with a Harvest Yankee Candle flickering away in the living room, casting moving monstrous shadows on the walls, much to the interest of the cats.
The evening's agenda consists of little more than wrapping up dinner and getting some more reading done. I wrote at length in the journal earlier this evening and may pen a few more lines before I return to the Che biography, which I am very much enjoying. The quality of this book is such that I would happily take a day off from work for the purpose of reading all day. It's a rare book that incites such a degree of interest for which one would happily burn valuable vacation time.
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