Yesterday evening the place AJ takes gymnastics had a drop-off evening. AJ had been excited about it all week. They spent three hours running around and playing on all the gym equipment, eating pizza, drinking lemonade and playing games. There were movies screened in the lobby and craft projects in the party room, but AJ didn�t waste his time with either one. Why watch TV when you can swing Tarzan-style into a giant pit of foam blocks?

While AJ was wearing himself out at the gym, the husband and I tooled off to a lovely little creperie that we discovered a few weeks ago. It is one of those tiny restaurants that does a very small thing and does it absolutely perfectly. The restaurant is lodged in an old building that was probably a store front with residence above at one time. There are maybe ten small tables, each with a glass top covering a collage of Francophilia � maps, postcards, clippings from tourist guides. The walls are hung with antique posters depicting the major wine regions of France and a collection of antique and antique-like plates. The music is always French, but in a wide variety of styles. Last night we heard a lot of Piaf, which is always fine with me. The counter where the chef assembles the crepes is open to the dining area, so we drank our wine and watched as the he assembled our crepes (seafood for me, roast pork for the husband). We finished off the meal with a chocolate and strawberry filled crepe which was incredible.

All this is a longwinded way of saying we had a very pleasant and relaxing evening until four a.m., at which point we heard the sound of gushing water. My husband heard it first and went down to investigate. One of the hoses that connects the water softener to the well pump had come loose and was spraying the basement with water. By the time he woke me and we figured out how to shut it off, the basement had a good two inches of water on the floor. AJ�s computer and my violin case were soaked (not the violin, though; and the computer still works, amazingly). Everything else was sufficiently above grade to stay dry, except for the mammoth stack of moving boxes that we had saved since our last move in preparation for our next one. But if you�ve got to lose something to a flood, a big stack of cardboard is probably the way to go. By 5:30 we�d baild and mopped most of the water up. The Sunday paper arrived early for a change, so we made coffee and watched the sun come up. We spent most of the morning drying out carpets and bleaching the floor and walls. Not my favorite way to spend a Sunday, but it could have been a lot worse. There was no real damage. Even the leak doesn�t seem to have been the result of a real problem � nothing a little duct tape can�t fix.

The bad news, though, is that I�ve been evicted from my office indefinitely until the place thoroughly dries out and stops smelling like bleach. I hate having my space disrupted. But I suppose I should be happy that my computer and all my files are still dry.

AJ was a saint this morning, entertaining himself for hours while we cleaned up the mess. As a treat, I took him out to lunch at his favorite restaurant (the site of my meeting with Miss Fairlywell a couple of months ago) where he covered the paper tabletop with crayoned drawings of assorted of a train saying �chugga-chugga, CHOO-CHOO!� the Magic School Bus, and an enormous sky full of clouds that looked like things so that the children on the train and the school bus could find pictures in them. He also flirted shamelessly with the waitress and received an extra large scoop of ice cream for dessert. AJ is a savvy diner.

Having been banished from my desk, I am typing from my favorite red chair. There is a cat lying on my shoulder and purring in my ear. If I stay awake for another five minutes, it will be a major miracle.

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