A horse walks into a bar, right? The bartender says, "Why the long face?" Get it? Long face?

The fever broke, the hallucinations stopped, and the big guy is on the mend. We're hoping the massive quantities of antibiotics will do the trick and Anthony will be back to normal, that is only mildly sick, in a few days.

Since Spring seems determined not to spring around here, we've been forced to enjoy the Charlottesville area wrapped in many layers and through freezing mist. It's not without it's charm this way; misty mountains, no crowds. But then again, it sucks. We're ready for the sun to come out and stay out. Now is the Spring of our discontent. Let there be warmth.

First was Monticello, Jefferson's home, which was beautiful and inspiring. An interesting contrast to the house Anthony's aunt and uncle have built on a hillside of their own, which is also beautiful and inspiring, though with fewer columns and no slave quarters. Monticello, combined with the documentary we just watched on Frank Lloyd Wright and the handmade house in which we're staying has nearly made up our minds: We want some land, we want to build something on it, and we want to be genuises. Is that too much to ask?

They say the Frontier Culture Museum is "the rural Williamsburg" and we won't argue. We spent an educational, if numbing, hour there and we're sure it would have been much better in nice weather. We got some nice pictures.

The Worcestershire Look	Still Life With Spoons	A Door
more photos in the archives »