Tonight it's humid. Humid like taffy that's set in the sun or syrup on the stem of your fork and you can't wash your hands. It's a nice blend of cool humidity that makes is bareable. The coolness is negating the lack of breeze, as I don't recall ever being able to open our front windows and our back windows without having a slight breeze. Our curtains are completely limp.

Eva remarked on San Francisco. How can a city be so warm in the daytime and then so cool in the night? My very first mistake in SF (along with Bobbie too) was that I didn't pack a jacket with my summer-outfits for our month-long stay in a furnished apartment in Sunnyvale. We were definately tourists in our new home. We were easy to spot goose-pimpled after the sun went down in khaki shorts and fake birkenstocks.

But tonight it was beautiful.

Before heading in for the night we opted to take a stroll around the neighborhood. We stopped at the Russian night shop and grabed two small Jupiler beers. (75 Euro cent apiece) and found a bench in front of the Anglican church Eva's father attends.

We sat there in the humidity and talked. Something we need to do more often. Not just the talking, but the walking. The placing ourselves on benches at 11:30 for no reason whatsoever. That's getting back to our roots. :) Back when no hour seemed like a bad hour to do something random.

Here's to sweltering windless humid nights in Antwerp, and to the re-beginning of what has been the most wonderful thing to happen to us. The fact that we found each other...her here, and me there and somehow it's working.

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