You think a tart dinner party is a good thing, wait till a surprisingly chilly afternoon two days later when you want something good for lunch, and then you open your fridge and find two neat foil packets of leftover tarts. Now that’s a good thing.

Also, now that I have mentioned the surprisingly chilly afternoon I am reminded that yesterday when Jeff and I went for a gander in the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, it was coldish and many of the cherry blossoms hadn’t really bloomed yet, and Jeff said, “I was expecting more of April.”

Which also reminds me that at some point in Cherry Esplanade I turned around and Jeff was standing on the lawn between the rows of pink cherry-blossom buds in dark Gucci sunglasses and a black jacket, fighting with a map. I was about to write, “like the Angel of Death,” but I seem to think the Angel of Death doesn’t need a map to get where he’s going.