This week, I spent every night from Tuesday evening forward at my new apartment, affectionately called The Cloister. Beyond its functional purpose, I intend to use this space to retreat, to write, to read, to "entertain." It is nearly complete in its furnishing. And it is set up according to my needs.
If all goes well, I will be hosting one very special lady, brunette, five years old going on thirteen. Smart and beautiful like her mother, a real people person like her daddy. Should I ever consider letting her have the keys to the T-Bird, knowing I will eventually have to take them from her?
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