Funny story: One morning, while we were having coffee, the boyfriend told me about his dream the night before. He said that Angelina Jolie visited our house. Apparently, our house was a cafe. Angelina’s taste, in the boyfriend’s dreamworld, was low-key; she liked casual, kitschy, and Bohemian places. He also called her Angie.

My reply: Huh. That sounds like our house all right.

(I did not tease him about the dream. He is not a fan of Angelina. The boyfriend thinks that Brad Pitt is more beautiful than the actress.)

So this is what our yellow house looks like today. 

You know those inns or stores that look straight out of the Kitsch Fairy’s imagination? You know, those places that at first glance, you find interesting but then you tell yourself that you could never live in a house like it. THAT is our yellow house.

We enjoy those kitschy places as much as the next person but unlike most people, we actually never want to leave. In fact, we often find ourselves pointing at things and asking, “I wonder if they’ll sell us that.” or “Where did they find these?”

So this is our yellow house. Whenever my mother is in town, she insists that we hire a cleaning lady to help us dust our dust-gathering dust-gatherers. I say we don’t need one. If the place is clean enough for Angelina, it’s clean enough for us.

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Ahh, it’s good to be back. We had a virus outbreak and had to lay low for a while.

Hi! Give me a hug; don’t worry, I’m virus-free. 

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I’ve also been catching up on Breaking Bad. Bryan Cranston is delightful to watch.