Fifty-two degrees, October drizzle that turns into big drops now and then, like a moody tearful afternoon, but I’m smiling. Drove with slapping wipers and ran the shiny parking lot to fetch the hot chicken tortilla soup so when back in the carefree kitchen nook, we could sit and watch the drops play chase on the atrium window panes. Good day to put on Sinatra through every speaker in the house and cozy up the fireplace with some snapping flames, or play a noir film from the Criterion Collection. But don’t turn on any heat, just grab a comforter, and wear soft white socks. Want to take this afternoon and frame it and place it on the memory wall and go back there some humid July afternoon to curl up on the couch.