I had the perfect morning with the sunny house all to myself. I slept in as best I could (why is that when you can sleep in, you can’t?), and then woke to no chores, no needs, just the Nespresso I made myself and the outrageously overpriced magazine I purchased the night before and saved for exactly this.

The days are hot right now, which isn’t unusual for September; but this time of year, and especially in the mountains, the space between daytime weather and nighttime weather is increasingly disparate, and I love waking to crispy, misty mornings, knowing we don’t have to prepare for winter just yet. It totally justified my second coffee.

The girls were dropped home late morning and they were tired from their sleepover fun. We rested and got a few things done around the house. I am still not eating nightshades and, in preparation for a few upcoming meals, made a tomato-free barbecue sauce from sweet potatoes. It was actually kind of fun and it turned out pretty great. So many modern citizens have food sensitivities, and I now—SHOCKINGLY—count myself among them. I am happy to cook and experiment, but it is a major time consumption that we have forgotten to make space for.

With Trevor traveling, we made plans to spend the evening with my parents. We dressed for the beastly hot Denver weather and met up to putt-putt near Westminster, which was a lot of fun. We had dinner out and spent the night at their house in Golden which is always blissfully quiet. I slept alone in the guest room where the TV only has over-the-air channels. We can’t get any at our house, and I loved the simplicity of flipping through only whatever is on. I feel that my nostalgia for “the way things used to be” is a sure sign that I’m really a grown-up.