Here's something beautiful.

When you're out walking around with no real purpose, but you have a few minutes and a couple of dollars to spend. You've turned into a few small stores, but either you couldn't afford anything or nothing caught your eye. Then you decide to go into one particular place you probably would overlook another day. The reason is difficult to pinpoint -- whether it's the biting cold in the wind or the idea of prolonging the peace you have found during your stroll, you will never be able to tell.

Browsing would be a bit of a stretch. What you're doing inside is more of a idle movement between the brightly coloured objects on the walls and the racks, your mind elsewhere. Every so often, you'll pick something up, turn it over, and set it back down before walking again. It's as you're doing this for perhaps the eleventh time that you see it.

What is it? I couldn't say, but you know instantly. It's perfection. It's the perfect gift. You're a little taken aback, because of course you weren't looking for it or even thinking about the person you know it's for. But there it is, where you least anticipated finding it.

And then you go home, clutching it all the bus ride. And there's soup and dates for dinner.

Winds was hilarious on Monday. Maybe 20 of us showed up, because she hadn't been there during the day. Dupaul came in and asked if she could take a picture, which of course put the 20 (maybe) of us in stitches.