Brief return to Barr headquarters.

I love camp and college, but there are some things at home that I can't get anywhere else. A really good shower, for instance—I don't think I ever truly feel clean unless I've just showered in my parents' bathroom.



We had a few days' break, which happily coincided with the blooming of the cactus that frames our front door. It only flowers for a few days a year, and then only early in the morning. You can practically see the petals closing.



I need a kitchen. I need to be able to cook for myself, and sometimes I need other people to cook for. My mom, scrambling to put together a spread of hors d'oeuvres for the Chinese students she's hosting for three weeks and who were flying in that day, commissioned me to make hummus and devise a substitute for the bag of pita bread the dog had devoured the night before. My initial lazy reluctance faded into delight as I donned an apron and baked some basil tortilla chips.



It's hard to get a copy of the Wall Street Journal when it's not conveniently waiting for you on the driveway in the morning. I missed that paper. I also realized, for what it's worth, that I don't eat bread or tuna anywhere else. Let's face it—they're too easy to mess up.