It was one of those days where, once one is home from being out and around among people, one puts on her pajamas, makes a pot of tea and tries to figure out some sort of effective, fulfilling escapism, e.g. reading Gaiman's Sandman.

Speaking of which, Neil Gaiman is currently not too far away from where I live, attending Sundance. Now that would have been a cool vacation. I can't wait to see MirrorMask.

So, pot of chili is on the stove, simmering with peppers, chilis, Belgian dark chocolate and grapefruit, and a pan of enchiladas are in the oven. Instead of an enchilada sauce, I carried the chocolate theme over and made more of a mole sauce for those. There shall be good dinners ahead.

And so I'm grateful to be home where it's quiet and I have a son who adores me, and whom I adore in return. It's warm, it's safe, I can write and read, there's tea. And there's chiles.