nothing like guests . . .

. . . to put you in a frenzy of house-and-garden cleaning! My best college pal Patty, who lives on the Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake, is due to arrive this afternoon. She'll stay the night (change the sheets and towels, scour the guest bath, find flowers, put something good to read on the night table, etc.) and tomorrow she and I will drive up to St. Helena for lunch at Tra Vigne. We haven't seen her since our trip to Nova Scotia last year where she and her spouse have a summer house in Lunenberg. Mr. C has cleaned and treated the Saltillos in the front (an annual chore; they look gorgeous) and is now sweeping the leaves off the back deck. The menu is decided, the proseco is chilling. Now for a quick mop in the kitchen and we're ready for anything.

I made our reservations for the trip to Bozeman for Thanksgiving. We'll all be together for what I'm hoping will be a snowy celebration. Cait and Mike have remodeled their kitchen, bought a big Viking range (Mr. C can hardly wait to try it out), and foolishly mentioned how terrific it would be for us to all come for the holiday, never dreaming we'd take them up on it. Looking forward to seeing the granddogs, too.

I have just finished Part 1 of this remarkable book. It's long and complicated but absolutely fascinating. The author started on the road to this book when he began advanced training in cancer medicine at the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute in Boston in the summer of 2003. During his first week, a colleague who’d just completed the program took him aside. “It’s called an immersive training program. But by immersive, they really mean drowning,” he said. “Have a life outside the hospital,” the doctor warned him. “You’ll need it, or you’ll get swallowed.” The writing of this book was his life ring.