Gasp.
No your eyes are not playing tricks on you. You haven't stared so long at 6 January 2002 just hoping for an inkling of change
that you willed it so. I just finally decided to get back to basics. And this email from Laine-- one of many prodding at me
from the land of disappointment-- helped to get me back on track:
"'2002:01:07:21:06: I sadly propped Tree up against our two trash cans, wedging him
between the concrete steps and the garage to avoid the strong gusts of wind that could carelessly knock him all about.'
I saw a pitiful tree lying out for the trash this week-- a week into February, can you imagine? And it was so sad. Almost as sad
as the fact that you haven't updated whirlygirl since January 7, 2002."
So. January. Five pounds lost. A visitor. A windy walk. Perfect photographs of a trip to the zoo. Tamago. A new way to see the National Gallery of Art
East Building. The perfect bath. Renewed interest in PIXAR films. Xanadu on vinyl. Happy to lay on the cold marble steps of the Lincoln Memorial.
More in love each minute than I was the minute before. Incredible sadness over visitor's departure which results in taxes being filed before
most people receive their W-2s. Old friends with new diamond rings and weddings to plan. Impressive business meetings. Asses kicked,
names taken. New business cards, a mug, a pen, and a block of post-its instead of a bonus. A night out with a new friend from Idaho.
A family visit. A drink with old friends in the lobby of the Algonquin Hotel. A drive to Boston. News of incredible personal changes just
ahead, around the bend. A shiny new Vanessa hair cut. Lots and lots and lots of catching up with the best in Boston. The most delicious
dinner at Salts. Two fabulous breakfasts. 25 minutes in the Yale University Art Gallery. A bit too much to drink on Groundhog Day. Thank you
notes. Good work news. And above all, another's happiness pulling and tugging me into my own personal euphoria in the most sweetly
surprising way.
Quite a month. But still no sofa.
Instead I've taken to my old chair, the old orange Sonneborn chair-- covered now in navy blue but still as comfortable as ever.
It's my place to nap and read and let my mind wander over the incredible year that was. And the new sparkling, exciting year that
is sure to be.
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