Sunday

Sunday was a little snow and a cuppa at Roses 32 Cafe in Gilbertville, MA.  This restaurant, located in an old gas station turned glass and steel California cool, still brings tears to my eyes.  They actually hired two guys from Spain to come and brick the enormous round oven from which comes luscious bread I can no longer eat (gluten, alas).  But I still get coffee there and continually pinch myself because the middle of MA has nothing like this anywhere, and people will drive from farmhouses an hour away just to sit there with espresso and the NY Times.  Other than Roses, all you get is Polish kielbasa, Cumberland Farms slushies and WalMart baked goods. 

I spent Sat. night at my sister's house where we stayed glued to the TV and all the stories out of Tucson, AZ.  I hope Sarah Palin learned a lesson about putting gun crosshairs on a map that included Gabrielle in Tucson.  Sarah needs to close that mouth of hers permanently and stop swaggering around with her whole Alaska gun-toting Mama image.