I’m getting chummy with my neighbors. There’s been a faithful turnover since we arrived here at the edge of the woods and it’s charming to see get-togethers growing more communal. I’ve even learned that one of my neighbors toiled in the galley of a thrice-starred Michelin chef in Paris. He couldn’t convince his sweetheart to stay any longer in the metropolis of a lover’s fantasy, so they made it back to our cul-de-sac. He whips up his repasts often at home, so I suppose she benefits even more so with more of his time at home instead of in another’s cookhouse. Seven years ago, he got busy with his hands concocting up flavors in frozen cream and now they have a more than fruitful brand all over town. My littlest bear says they never have their ice cream when she’s over, “they eat it all.” I remarked with, “I thought you went over to hang out with your mates and play.”