3:13 p.m. - September 27, 2003
Quickly, a note
He laughs, When do I get to read the diary? Better not tell them about last night and he's in a good mood, I'm in a good mood, and this is already a great weekend. I dragged his ass out of bed early this morning to beat the tourist crowds at Pike Place and we had fresh-from-the-oven scones and apple butter before it was light out, and then took the ferry to Vashon for what's becoming our tradition, making out on the deserted beach and walking, and then to Whole Foods and Blockbuster to settle in. I'm supposed to be making the cookies he loves while he works out (the secret is honey and two varieties of chocolate chips) but I want to write if just for a minute, as a reminder later on when I'm feeling blue that I'm having a great weekend so far.
I'm glad to see him and he's so damn happy to see me and why can't it always be like this?
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