Cold feet and first blogs.

There are not many things less romantic than having one's leg petted by another person's sweaty toes. They are coldish and dampish and a little bit sharp. For the first few minutes after he crawled into bed next to me, my husband swept his chilly, scratchy-nailed feet mindlessly up and down my right leg as he lay there chatting about an upcoming bike race while he settled into his pillow and warmed up his half of the bed. When I moved my leg he followed, scratching, smearing. Then he noticed the blog set-up screen I was staring at, and inserted a suggestion or two for blog names: Stuck in the Middle--a reference to my endless complaints about this land-locked city being smack-dab in the center of the country with no coast or mountain in site, and Hasapasakilu--the name I attended invitation-only art gallery openings under when I was in college and got the old apartment dweller's mail. Hasapasa had the coolest friends.

Temporary Digs just seems to fit. I can't stop thinking I should be someplace else. He's stopped with the toes thing, and I think he's sleeping. So I'm not quite as inclined to move out at the moment. But the coast still looks good from here.