The snow is falling. Always reminds me of that Robert Frost poem, "And miles to go before I sleep." I tried a new mac-and-cheese recipe, from one of Rachael Ray's cookbooks. The sauce seemed just about perfect and then I added the Dijon mustard and it turned...strange. Still good, though.

I started a book by Janice Steinberg, The Tin Horse. It seems promising. (Just finished Mariana by Susanna Kearsley.)

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