Julia and I walked on the beach last weekend (or she and Scooby went on without me, after the marsh came up to swallow my Birkenstocks and socks—she was wearing big green boots. She baked a raspberry crumble from berries we bought from a WASPy farmer on the side of the road, and we at it all (it was only berries and oats and a little brown sugar). We watched Sydney Pollack’s “Three Days of the Condor”—Faye Dunaway without the bells and whistles. On the drive home, we ate both chips and Pirate Booty (that’s Julia). The bottle of salsa went flying through the air on one curve, and splashed my jeans and the driver’s side speaker, and we both found this very, very funny.