I’m on the train returning to Chicago after what feels like the shortest vacation I’ve ever had. I slept more than I meant to and didn’t do some things I intended to , but I don’t regret that as I have before. I did what I could and enjoyed it without feeling bored, at a loss, or disappointed. Now the weather has turned hot and humid, so perhaps it’s best that I’ve gotten all that walking out of my system. When I get home, unpack, clean up a bit, and return to work, time, or my perception of it, will slow down to its normal, boring speed.

After eating at Casey’s Tavern last night, we visited Ann Arbor Too, which, like its sister bed and breakfast, is charming, albeit in a different way. The contemporary and discreet range successfully share the kitchen with a vintage pot-bellied stove that dominates the scene. A deck overlooks a lush green park, and a south sun room serves as the breakfast room. As my friend said, this house would be lovely in winter, too.

Yesterday we drove to Tantre Farm, where she has a share. I tried the Seascape strawberries — sweet, and the peas — crisp. We visited the chickens, which were enjoying the shade, along with turnips and strawberry tops. We also stopped to look at the cows. On the way back, I spotted a turkey vulture flapping around someone’s yard and several goldfinches flitting back and forth across the road with their characteristic up-and-down movement.

The next time I find myself succumbing to the inane concerns of small, controlling minds focused on the insignificant and oblivious to what matters, I must remember the goldfinches and the relativity of time.

Mr. Wolf is correct — it’s my birthday, a date I hide from my day-to-day acquaintances and highlight on my Web site. Thank you to those who sent greetings.

I am celebrating by experiencing one of the pains of middle age — perhaps a rite of passage of sorts. For a while my lower back has been expressing unhappiness, and my abdominal region has been feeling tense and full of pressure. Both seem to have become worse recently, while my need for handy facilities has grown. It all makes being a pedestrian tourist somewhat difficult and painful, and my body seems to be telling my stubborn brain the same thing my friends have: “Get the UFE done already!” I hope my discomfort isn’t merely psychological because my awareness of increased within a couple of weeks of my conversation with the gynecologist. I would like to think I’m not that susceptible to a little suggestion.

In my planned rambles today, I found Hollander’s and spent too much there, then bought J. a T-shirt at Peaceable Kingdom. The “Dog Person” version was unavailable in his size, but “Cat Person” was. Heh heh heh. “Message, Spock?”

I finally came to Sweetwaters Café on Washington and thought I should have gone into the one in Kerrytown. For some indescribable reason, which could be familiarity, I think I prefer Café Verde. It could be because it feels less polished and more subversive than Sweetwaters, and it’s a little more tucked away.

Bob and Pat mentioned their second bed and breakfast, Ann Arbor Too,¹ which also looks wonderful. Bob said that a bus stops there, frequently during the university’s year, so it wouldn’t be impossible for me to stay there without a car. It sounds delightful — an 1842 farmhouse adjacent to Miller Nature Area. Perfect for me.

I’d better start saving for my next birthday. Fortunately, it comes only once a year.

Aside: As I was leaving, I found the fairy door at Sweetwaters, then backtracked and saw Peaceable Kingdom’s.

¹ Since sold.

I don’t like flying, so usually I try to fall asleep before or during takeoff and to stay that way if I can. It might have seemed even easier to do Saturday, when I returned to Chicago from San Antonio. I’d been up until after midnight, packing and digesting my niece’s fifteenth birthday dinner (held at Chuy’s), I’d woken up several times during the night, and I got up at 4:35 a.m. to catch my 6:50 a.m. flight (selected because it was the most cost effective). I hadn’t slept well the night before, either, thanks to the pinched nerve and muscle spasms episode. And, as it turns out, I was also in the throes of late PMS, which drains me and my energy like a vampire. With all that going for me, you’d think I’d have passed out the moment I was seated.

You’d be wrong. I was fully alert during the entire takeoff process and couldn’t even will my eyes closed.

As the Caribou Coffee slogan goes, “Life is short. Stay awake for it.” I’m glad I did. Before I succumbed to exhaustion mid-flight, I experienced something magical — the sensation of flying in the dark over the moon.

The sun had not quite risen, and when I looked out my port window, the just-past-full moon was beside and below me, and soon behind me, among the clouds in the deep blue sky. For a moment, my heart felt as though it were within touching distance of its strongest desire. I was so moved that, after making sure he wasn’t asleep, I tapped the shoulder of my seat mate, a stranger, and demanded that he “look at that.” He did, and said, “That’s pretty,” before he returned to staring at the bulwark in front of us.

“Cold-hearted orb that rules the night . . .” And my heart.