Don't let it be forgot ...

that once there was a spot,
for one brief shining moment that was known as
Camelot.

Fare thee well, Senator Kennedy.

I would love to believe that I live in a country that will make you proud by realizing your dream of health care for all.

Honestly, how could one possibly object to this notion? It is nothing short of bewildering.

From the people who brought you ...

...Headless Body Found in Topless Bar

comes my first published book review. Glaring typo on web editor's part notwithstanding, here it is for your amusement.

Summertime dirge

It's a cold, quiet rainy afternoon and the Mr. Softee truck is driving around my neighborhood, playing that creepy, creepy song. It sounds like an antique music box being wound by a ghost. I'm baffled by its apparent success as a marketing tool.

How's that for a comeback?

I just dropped by to say hello ...

Is that the name of it? I loved that album (she says, dating herself) when I lived in San Francisco.

Mark Twain once said, "The coldest winter I've ever spent was summer in San Francisco." He also described New Orleans as, "a beautiful woman with dirty fingernails." Both apt descriptions for two of my homes-away-from.

I realize I haven't written in a while. In an effort to stop apologizing, um ... you know.

I have insomnia (see: timestamp). We are going away tomorrow. Far, far away, to Paris and Florence. Lovely lovely lovely can't wait beautiful cities all that -- I did, actually, break my foot which is a slight hindrance to absolute perfection on this trip. So that's a relief -- I already know it'll be imperfect.

Broken foot as analogy for allowing life to be imperfect. Give it a whirl.

Yes, I've had a glass of wine tonight.

I was telling a new and lovely friend (that's you, Mr. K) today about how I managed to spend yesterday, a beautiful, springlike day following a fabulous week of love and festivity and preceding a potentially amazing vacation, immersed in tears and hiding behind my pal depression. Moods, we've decided, are strange, strange beasts. And it's beyond comforting to know that there are others out there who know and live this too. My sweet friend with whom I dined last night and I shared this realization earlier in the day when we had the following conversation:

LB: It's beautiful out.
VB: I know - it really is.
(pause)
LB: And for some reason, I feel like hiding inside.
VB: OH my god me too. Can we have wine?

It takes a lot of effort to maintain a chaotic mind. But the payoff is fairly huge. If you're reading this and you know me, you're part of the payoff, and I love you.

I'm off to the continent. As my nephew would say, "Von boyage".

Je vous adore.

Ouch

Okay, to the snarky commenter below (smiley face) - I do have something else to write about now, which is that I think I might have broken my foot! Have to wait twenty minutes or so to call the orthopedist, whom I would much rather see than the St. Vincent's Emergency Room staff. I hate emergency rooms. If they're not horrifying they're boring and almost always entail a l-o-n-g and disturbing wait. Blech.

Photo above from Neil's injury last summer, for which he still does daily physical therapy. This is one of the rare times I'd like to be accused of exaggerating and have this accusation prove correct. For many reasons of course, not the least of which is that we've just booked a trip to Paris and Florence for a month from now. Having visited Paris a few years ago with a freshly sprained ankle, I know that this is still doable, but come on ... really?! Hopefully this is another sprain -- these spindly little colt ankles of mine twist very easily -- but either way it hurts like a mofo. And please don't ask me how I might have done this -- it's completely unglamorous and I have a rep to protect.

Bollocks. This sucks.

Natasha Richardson

Farewell, beautiful lady.

Midwinter night

March comes in like a lion ...