Today I bought two pounds of strawberries at Whole Foods and left them sitting on the kitchen counter until they could be destemmed and sliced. When I returned to my apartment late tonight, it smelled like summer. Strawberries are happy fruit.

Today was a coding day. Tedward rocked my world with his xsl style sheet and I went to work. It's so gratifying to see a promised service and product come to fruition. I told Ted it was sophisticated. He said, "Not only that, it's [long pause...] cool."

Today I bought 64 RoseArt Number 2 pencils and a vintage tin can to put them in. The pencils are red, blue, purple, and green. Ahhhhh-- the pencil. I got turned on to the pencil as I watched Jane take notes at our Team Pow-Wow two weeks back-- and sat next to Dan clicking his mechanical version at the Homeland Security meeting. I've decided that pencils are cheep inspiration-- especially when there are so many of them gathered together just itching to dance.

Lately there have been lots of B - I - G days. But a little, quiet, happy one-- like today-- feels just oh-so perfect.

The Washington Post runs a feature every Sunday called "Autobiography as Haiku" inviting readers to write their life in under 100 words. This week's entry by Eugenia E. Gratto was so enchanting and familiar.

"The emails from Eastern Europe bring starlight, strong coffee, and Adriatic swims. Sometimes, they bring music. Or revolution. I return fireflies and baseball, frustrated tears at my office desk after a missed deadline, news of our godson. We do not know where this is going, and we live so far apart. There is no formal name for friends who kissed unexpectedly beneath a late spring moon. But this is how it is for me: I print your messages. I save your words."

So lovely. So true.