I'm sitting at my BFF's kitchen table. She's not up yet, but it won't be long. Topher, her college-age son, is cooking breakfast. We're listening to Michael Hedges ("old" new age folk), and Rusty (her German Shephard/Lab) is sitting at my feet. He made a quick foray outside, but his pleading eyes appeared soon at the sliding door. The arctic blast arrived as predicted with a 30 degree drop in temperature. It's really not that arctic, but they've had practically no cool weather this fall, so 45 degrees is a big change for them. No more time to slice because she just got up. We have a slow, cozy morning planned, a visit to "udder mudder" (her mom), and a late afternoon flight for me.