Pesto peace

I have found a new shortcut to happiness.

It is the memory of a week and a half ago. Friday, March 13. It was Adam's first furlough Friday and we were just loafing around, enjoying each other's company.

Then I checked my email and found out I got into MacDowell.

This is no doubt the biggest professional achievement I've ever had as a writer. Getting into grad school was a triumph, an amazing cap-off of four years of sweat, but this? My God!

After I lost my head and hugged him and freaked out and went all proto-epileptic, it was time for some lunch. We were both starving. So we loaded ourselves into the car and went to Genova, and on top of the huge sandwiches, we ordered their excellent and amazing pesto pasta.

That first bite tasted like mental health.