Currently

I spent last night in Carrollton, Georgia, where my Uncle Jim (younger brother to mom) and Aunt Ann have adopted an uber-modern loft existence. Their home is literally carved out of a refurbished industrial space. There's still a pully on one of the ceilings. Exposed brick, the whole bit. Jim is a careful designer of spaces; he's making it into something Dwell might want for a cover, and the really great thing is that he and Ann are totally into found objects and reused/recycled materials as art. They've streamlined from a larger house, but now all the beauty's in the tiny, personal details of their new place. We had corn chowder and brownies last night--both homemade and delicious. We talked a little bit about life. I love seeing them. Jim understands my early morning coffee demands when I show up bleary-eyed and nonverbal in the kitchen, and Ann laughs at all of my jokes (therefore, I love her if she actually finds me funny, or if she's just humoring me).

Ann passed Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers on to me. I've wanted to read it for quite some time; so thank you, Ann, and I look forward to swapping reviews once I've finished it. I've said it a million times, and now I'll type it once more: books connect people, still get them talking. That's priceless.