Last night we went to a Bush campaign party (one of 5,000 or so being held simultaneously around the nation). That was all fine, but I confess I spent most of the evening being very nonpolitical and admiring the house and lands, which correspond very closely to my dream house. It was a pre-1850s farmhouse, beautifully restored (the wife was an interior designer and the husband apparently good at following orders) with the original fireplaces and hardwood floors in many rooms. It was set among big maples on a couple hundred acres of rolling berry farm.
This should fill me with renewed inspiration to learn from The Tightwad Gazette, which I got from the library this week, and save as much money as possible.
My other distraction for the evening was trying to get Baby to settle down. I appreciate his political enthusiasm, but look forward to the day when he can express it in ways besides kicking me in the ribs.