So, today was a trial. A few doctors appointments. Some of them mine.

A few tears. Ditto.

A friend said "stop torturing yourself." Because I do. Don't you? Don't you wake up at three a.m. and start fretting, sure that you can't possibly wait until the morning to start setting things right?

A friend said "maybe you don't have to do all of it, right now." Because I'm sure I need to. Right now. Not later. Now.

::

And then,

Callie.

Again.

I know it was just because the crowd had shifted out in the park, and she was bored.

But she rescued me.

She came in and said "can I help?"

She chopped and she sauteed and she cried (onions). And she learned (how to cut an onion.)

Mostly, she just stood in the kitchen with me.

And then,

Lindsey.

She came in and said "oh! can I set the table?"

::

Look, this is not the way it goes, all the time.

But, tonight,

they rescued me.

Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?

::

In the doctor's office, I read an article while I waited that said that happiness is not found in having all the material things one wants, but in having "successful interpersonal relationships."

Fancy.

But,

I'll buy that.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.

tt

p.s. tears unrelated to the doctors' appointments. just to save you any unnecessary fretting.

p.p.s. are you tired of leaf pictures yet?

Greetings from Pink Street.

Things are good. Very good.

There will be more, but this is all for now.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Monday Morning

Hi. It's a good morning.

The weekend was so full, in the best of ways: of friends and family, girls and boys, lots of food and presents and nice, long walks (with enough berries poachedgathered for cobbler). My newly-minted teenager has been sleeping past noon. I figure, that's ok for now. For August. School days will come soon enough.

::

I am off tomorrow on a little adventure with my girls. My tech-director is trying to fix me up with the proper equipment to stay in touch while I'm away, but it might be a little quiet around here for a while. As excited as I am to get up to Maine and start taking pictures, and as much as I know I'll want to share about being there, meeting friends, spending time with my family in a different place, all the things we'll do and see: I'm also looking for a little space from the screen and keyboard. I've been finding that it looms larger than its fifteen inches when I'm at home, and longing for a distraction from chores.

I don't think I'll be longing for any distraction from the now, this week.

::

From here on in, we're in the thick of the things that we wait for all year. Our August of being together, somewhere other than home, is literally what I day-dream about all year long. I know- because it is true every year- that it is different up there. That we are different. A little more relaxed, a little slower, simpler. Dare I say (kids?), a little quieter. More connected.

And every year I vow that I will take a little bit of that back home, and make it stick.

I think, that this past year, I did that more than ever. And I'm looking forward to this August, and what comes after, and hoping I keep even more of the state I'm in, when I'm in Maine, when I come back home.

I wish that you all bring a little bit of your vacation-selves home, too, to hold you over until the next time.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.

tt

ps::my tech-guy says that I'll have e-mail up there, for those of you who need to get in touch with me. I might even check it now and then. And I'll be back home for a few days next week. 'Til then!

Friday Happiness

I have lots of pretty pictures of flowers I've been saving for Friday Happiness.

I can't think of anything better than this, though.

So, here they are. Here it is. Here we are.

It's been a long time coming.

We've been doing this long enough to know that the fact that they all function as uber-citizens of the world, but fall into a heap when they walk through our door, is a good thing.

That they feel safe...comfortable...home...when they are nestled in the patchwork we call all of us, is all we want. All.we.want.

I had a list of random to share, but this is all I have to say, after all: I love you, girls.

Enjoy the weekend. I'm sure I'll be back with random, soon enough.
More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt
ps::songs I'm loving right now:
http://www.pandora.com/music/song/tim+fite/big+mistake
http://www.pandora.com/music/song/mia+jonah/warm+wind
http://www.pandora.com/music/song/iron+wine/in+my+ladys+house
pps::have you seen this?

Friday Happiness

{Well, I wrote this and then wasn't going to post it, because, um, who cares? if it's our anniversary except for us. And a little too much information, etc... But then, Tim just gave me this most incredible vintage tin picnic basket from Pretty Funny, which is a)the perfect present for me, who admittedly may not be the easiest person to buy a present for as I'm a little, er...particular... and b)the sweetest thing because we are really truly fresh out of fun money, and we really truly don't need anything, anyway; certainly not a vintage picnic basket. But then isn't that maybe exactly what we need? And, let's face it, isn't this whole silly thing a little too much information in the first place? And, I've said it before and I'll say it again, it's my blog and I can do what I want to. So...}

Because you asked me.

Because every time I hand you a cup of tea, you still look at me with those same, kind eyes.

Because you are the most patient person I've ever met. Because you need to be.

Because you and I have the same juvenile sense of humor.

Because we could both eat the whole pizza, but we share, slice for slice.

Because you are the smartest person I know, and you still want to learn about everything.

Because you make the bed every morning now, just to make me happy.

Because you make me get out and walk, even when I'd rather stay home.

Because you are still a puzzle.

Because we've gotten through the hard part. And it's still hard. But we're still here.

I'd say yes, over and over.

Happy Anniversary.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt
ps::off on a tangent, but I love this.

Tuesday:: some links, and some navel gazing

I don't know what time is going to show on this post, but I'm telling you: again, it's late.

We are both totally overworked, and yet completely under-employed.

Tim wears two or three different hats, jobwise. All with incredibly flexible hours (read: he works all day, until late at night), but very few benefits. Except for the invaluable benefit of being able to go to occasional lacrosse games, walk Anna to school, come home for lunch one day a week, and do what he loves to do. And the boss is very friendly.

I'm working just the one job. Our family is my job. And it's full time.

Again: incredibly flexible hours (see above), no benefits. Except for numerous hugs, the chance to nap, hearing their voices rising up through the windows on the way home from school, and the gift of being around while they are still here.

But...

Sometimes. I suspect I hide behind all this usefulness, busy-ness, neediness. How can I possibly worry about what's next for me to do with my life, while there are lunches to be made? Laundry to be folded. Cheeks to kiss.

Am I kicking up the dirt, so I don't have to look too far down the road?

::

We're up late again, putting together our new baby: Public Bookstore.

I'd like to introduce you to one of our contributors, Stephanie Dennis. I "met" Stephanie through This Joy + Ride, and loved her drawings. They are perfect for our project. But she also has wonderful paintings, which you can see here.

::

Another Stephanie, whom many of us know from 3191, has given us a glimpse into her home, here, and it's wonderful. I hope you like it, too.

::

In the house to our right, a three-week-old grandson is being put to bed, along with his two-year-old brother.

In the house to our left, our neighbors have brought home a baby girl, and a baby boy. When I saw their dad(!) leave to pick them up from the hospital today, I thought: there he goes to get his children. And I couldn't keep from crying. Tim and I just perched by the open window to hear a new-baby-cry.

It's a crazy thing we do, this child-having. This parenting. This hopeful ignoring of the inevitable.

Thankfully, we are rewarded for our stupidity with all of those hugs and kisses.

::

I've been posting all sorts of pictures over here. Go have a look, if you like.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Friday Happiness

Running away from this computer as quickly as possible! Wanted to stop in and say...

Hi.

and,

Enjoy this incredible day, weary citizens of the Northeast.

and,

Come visit us tonight at Third Friday. There's so much going on in town, and finally the weather is on board.

and,

Check this out; seems like an inspired project for a photo-happy mother and daughter. I think my girl and I might have a try at it.

and,
because it's my blog and I can do what I want to:

I love you, T.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Expectations

Sometimes it's hard for me to reconcile things as they are with things as they were.

There is something about traditions and rituals from your childhood that seem so important, simply because they got there first. They stick with you as being what should be, rather than just, simply, what was.

So, I approach most holidays with a basketful of expectations. I realize now, though, that those expectations are wholly mine, and not my girls'. That they are-we are-smack dab in the middle of creating their own set of memories and traditions. That the vague sense of disappointment I carry with me, for example, over not having an elaborate Easter celebration, is about me, not them.

And that what all of us need is a little less baggage, and whole lot more joy.

So. Here are a few small, sparkly moments that happened yesterday, even without a ginormous hollow chocolate bunny, a fancy new dress, or a petting zoo.

::Anna's eyes as wide and blue as the sky, when she found jelly beans waiting for her in the morning.

::The sight of Tim and Anna painting blown-out eggs.

::The sun shining brightly, and even though there was a chill wind, planting some seeds.

::A nap.

::Happy girls coming home, happy to be home.

::Genuine appreciation of the table I had set: "oh, look, this is so pretty!"


::The girls staging an egg hunt for each other, over and over, with seven hard boiled eggs.

::Sincere thank yous.

::Looking at their faces. Yesterday, and always, always, always.

My cup runneth over.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Friday Happiness

Today, I am happy about a few things that have turned out to be as good as I had hoped:

::my week with my girls, with nothing to do.

::Jen's show up on the walls of eyebuzz.

::the latest Woody Allen, which we finally saw via Netflix, as we do everything, because going out to a movie is about as viable for us as going to the moon.

::Magnolia Bakery, origin of the cookbook from which I have been drawing for two years now. Not to mention that fantasy I have about buying her house. I need to elaborate here a bit about the genius of having a sink with soap and paper towels in the lovely eating area of an establishment that is a natural kid magnet. Thank.you.Magnolia.

::Growing up, and growing older. I thought that perhaps the scuttlebutt was true, and we would reach and pass our prime. But the secret seems to be that it only gets better. We are still as fresh and curious and eager, but now we have this extra dimension to us, and to it all.
Am I wrong about this? Am I delusional? Maybe, but I've been seeing my self for the middle-aged woman that I am, and loving it. So, leave me to my folly.

::Spring; and the life-changing and -affirming ability to leave the house without bracing oneself for chilly pain, or spending an disproportionate amount of time buttoning and zipping and wrapping up.

::Homemade pizza, of which I never tire.

::Going to bed in our little house every night.

::Every morning's first cup of tea.

Enjoy the weekend. Thanks for reading.
tt

Flashes of kindness realigning one small part of the Universe.

::The neighbor who usually keeps a distance, comes to the door with a ball in her hands. You're ready to explain that it's not your kids', but before you can, she is smiling and apologizing for the one her grandson lost down the drainpipe. And telling you about a new grandchild on the way.

::The waitress in a pizza place, 98 miles away, remembers you all from last summer. Gives you an extra glass of wine, stops by the table and tells you a bit of her story. And you wish she could sit and talk a while more.

::Your husband is an artist who can also do minor plumbing repairs. And doesn't get mad when he finds the root of the problem in the kitchen sink is definitely.you.

::You start the day out grouchy and quarrelsome, and end up laughing with your daughters over your own embarrassment. Really laughing.

::The guy at the bookstore recommends some new, local music. And it's so good. Not perfect, but the tunes stick in your head, and make you think about them.

::Someone you've always admired, but don't cross paths with nearly enough, writes you the kindest, most encouraging words in an actual letter, just when you needed them most.

And you start to think, everything is going to be OK, after all.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.

tt

Four

Today is Anna's birthday.

Sometimes, I can't even believe she's here, at all. I certainly have a hard time wrapping my mind around FOUR.

Or, as one of her sistahs put it: "I can't believe we've had her for four years."
Like a goldfish. Or a bicycle.

Have her, we do. And she's brought us so much joy, such an immediate and pure connection, and unbounded, uncomplicated love.
She was, perhaps, what we all needed.

So, happy birthday to our four-year-old. We're lucky to have you.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Here we go

An almost perfect day, yesterday; library in the morning, a walk through town, sun shining, and lots of time outdoors. Taking time to sit and read. Have a cup of tea out back. Later, a glass of wine, together.

But briefly, adolescence clouded over sunny childhood. Nothing tragic. But painful, for one. And my throat dried out, my heart went out to her, and I thought: here we go.

This is new territory. I'm ready with band-aids, and stories, blankets and tea. Ready with hugs. But will I have what they need, when they need me most?

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Friday Happiness :: Thirteen things

I'm loving today:

:: matzoh with a smear of dark chocolate. Some look at such a concoction and ask "why"? I say, try it and you'll know.

::the enthusiasm our girls can muster for Pi Day.

::Bonnard at the Met. If I don't get to see this exhibit in the next five weeks, I would really like someone to just put me out of my misery.

::Green outside my window, under my feet, sprouting from branches above me. Green, and not a speck of dirty white stuff.

::Tonight, finally giving the ten-year-old the sleepover she's been waiting for. Wish me luck.

::Molly Wizenberg's book, which is warm, and quirky, and beautiful. And should explain the impulse behind my long-winded breakfast post. Lunch, Dinner, and Snacking to come soon.

::Tomorrow night, the opening reception for Elizabeth Solomon's show. It's a pleasure to have her work up on the walls, and I'm looking forward to seeing her again, and enjoying another fun night at the gallery.

::my husband, who in addition to being eminently lovable, remains ever supportive, ridiculously cute, and remembers to take out the garbage.

::design*sponge. I could just leave it there. And I know I've already confessed here to an addiction. But now I'm branching out from sneak peeks ,to city guides. What can be said about people who make me as impatient to revisit Providence, Rhode Island, as I am Paris?

::Jen 11. A collaborative, multi-venued exhibit featuring my most-favorite, Jennifer Judd-McGee (and ten other very talented Jennifers).

::John Legend. Isn't it wonderful when you find a random song you love, and then find out that everything else that artist does is just as good?

::Julie's kitchen. Which is featured at Apartment Therapy SF today. How cool is that? Incredibly appealing kitchen aside (and you should see the "writing house", or whatever she'll end up calling it, that her husband built for her), Julie is incredibly talented, funny and smart, and her writing always leaves me with something to think about.

::my parents. I say this with trepidation, as they will predictably respond with a chorus of "get on a plane to Florida," but...I really, really miss them.

Enjoy your Friday the Thirteenth. Happy weekending.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Run ahead, lag behind, carry me.

A walk is never a linear progression with a three-year-old in tow. But I doubt we would stop and examine everything, even the mud, quite as much without her.

::

One thing I don't talk about here nearly as much as I think about: food. You may or may not have picked up on it, but I'm fairly obsessed. All across the spectrum: food sources, food shopping, cooking food, reading about food, the politics of food, looking at food and pictures of food. Eating food. And most of all, feeding the ones I care about.

{I'm going to interject here, that what I am not interested in, at all, is food science. By that I mean, someone telling me about how marination breaks down the whatsit in the meat, or the gluten content of such and such contradicts the starch in so in so. Bored by it. Don't care, I'll see it with my own eyes & taste it and figure it out. Leave me alone. Just saying.}

Some might say that my...ahem...fixation...on food is not healthy, as intense focus on one thing often is not. Of course, that's nonsense. It is, exactly, healthy. Everything else can wane: Social life? Pretty limited. Ability to travel widely and freely? Ditto. Energy and time to develop new hobbies? Working on it. But no. Disposable income? Fresh out.

But, around here? We eat. And well, if I may say so.

I thought I might tell you about it, a little. So tomorrow, I'm going to start in on breakfast tales, and then lunch, and then...well...you get the picture.

For now, I'm going to leave you with this:

At the end of the day, if I've fed them all well, if I've enjoyed a few moments myself where I've sat still, and savored a good something or other to eat, if they've said please and thank you, kissed me before running off, or, in the case of the man of the house, held my hand in between bites, and mmmm-ed and ahhh-ed; I'm pretty much pleased as punch.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.

tt

Thursday, quietly.

I've been feeling very quiet here for a couple of days. Been looking all around blogland, though, and am really awed by the creativeness, talent, and - this is a strange troika, perhaps - honesty, that I find there.

I really do want to be honest, and those who know me well are probably tired of me spewing my honesty out onto the carpet of our conversations, like a baby after too much breast milk. But the truth of it is, the blogworld allows us to only present a snapshot of our lives, and chosen ones, at that.

It is all the truth, but it is perhaps not the whole picture. I've shown you the flowers and the stove and the smiling children. The cat, but not the litterbox. (Actually, our cat goes outside, twelve months of the year, but you get my point.)

I've a really good picture of our laundry, but I've held back.

Anyway, I think what this here has given me, is a way to isolate the things in my world that make me pause and wonder, think about, and most of all, appreciate.

When I was little, I remember telling my dad about some obscure useless thing which escapes me now, but which elicited the most glowing compliment I have ever had in my life. He said: "You are just like me: you notice everything."

To this day I think that is all I yearn to do: notice everything.

I'll be back, and most likely not so quietly.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

ps: that there in the picture is Callie running home, as quickly as she ran out. Pure bliss.

Girls

I was a girl, once. Most days, moments even, I still feel I am one.

All evidence to the contrary.

I did not have sisters. I had some close approximations, but no.

I always felt I would be the mother of sons. Doting. Adoring. Adored.

Ha.

I feel at times that I have been given what I needed, but not what I can necessarily handle.

But handle it, I must.

And I do. Beautifully.

What on earth makes us feel that we in some way are entitled to a certain future? That we are destined for something, so that when it does not come to be, we are not only surprised, but indignant?

I remember in college, a girlfriend sobbing over lost love. She was crying for the children that she had already named, and would now not have. How do you comfort someone in grief for what has not happened?

I stopped mourning my dreams right about the time I realized I was living them.

This is what we have.

Please understand: I am not preaching. Or boasting. I struggle. With everything. It's hard to the point of my wanting to give up. It's not for me to tell you here how close I've come.

But I have girls, now. And they are smart, and strong, and brimming with what I could only wish for, but could never have taught them, or given them, if they had not had it in them to begin with.

I was a girl, once. I still am. And I am constantly in awe, constantly learning from, the girls that I have, finally, all around me.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Introducing :: Public Bookstore

When Tim and I first met, we had a lot of dreams about what our future would hold. Small, seemingly insignificant things held our hearts in their grip; huge, looming realities seemingly melted in the heat of our resolve to forge our own path through life together.

One of the small details was that we would need a car that could transport all of us. On weekends, Tim would lead me by the hand around dealership lots after hours, looking at embarrassingly large automobiles that could seat eight. The implication that we would not only have our children together someday, but would need the extra seat for when we had a child of our own, was one of the most romantic notions I could imagine, then or now. I still swoon a bit at the sight of a Toyota lot.

One of the big dreams was that we would fuse what we were passionate about with our need to earn a living. This dream first took the shape of a used bookstore slash meeting place, where we would sell art books, children's books, vintage books...plus wine, and cheese plates, and organic chocolate milks for the little ones.

We named it. We envisioned a logo, a storefront. We bought the domain name. (The artist I had fallen in love with turned out to also be a computer geek.)

Public Bookstore.

Well, that incarnation of the dream never materialized. But we've come pretty close in spirit with the community (and business) that we are building with Eyebuzz Fine Art.

When we envisioned our next project - what began in theory as a "zine", but we no longer want to label as such, as the idea has evolved somewhat - we wanted to give it an identity separate from eyebuzz, but which still held meaning for us.

Public Bookstore.

Click here for more info. And we hope you'd like to join us in this next endeavor. It's a work in progress...we'll keep you posted as we go along.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

ps: Believe me, I'm as outraged about our gas guzzlers as anyone, but my husband informs me that once you drive that shiny new car off the lot, it loses an awful lot of value, and we could now probably not even afford the trade in on the Suburu or Prius that I would prefer. Please be kind when you see me on the road. I wish I had a bumper sticker that reads: Don't judge me, I really do need all the seats.

pps: The image on the Public Bookstore logo is from an antique etching of the capture of Major Andre. If you can tell me where the subtitle comes from, I'll send you a gift. Leave me a comment, and the first one who can place "All nine kinds of pie" will receive a little something in the mail.

Call me a romantic fool,

but I find it hard not to like a holiday that's all about love.

Happy Valentine's Day. Thanks for reading.
tt

What a wonderful thing love is.

"What sustains our relationship is I'm extremely happy with her, and part of it has to do with the fact that she is at once completely familiar to me, so that I can be myself and she knows me very well and I trust her completely, but at the same time she is also a complete mystery to me in some ways. And there are times when we are lying in bed and I look over and sort of have a start. Because I realize here is this other person who is separate and different and has different memories and backgrounds and thoughts and feelings. It's that tension between familiarity and mystery that makes for something strong, because, even as you build a life of trust and comfort and mutual support, you retain some sense of surprise or wonder about the other person."

Barack Obama, on Michelle, as told to Mariana Cook, May 26, 1996. Excerpted in The New Yorker, January 19, 2009.

A little bit of love today. Thanks for reading.

tt

Friday Happiness :: Outside, Inside

I think the bare trees are more beautiful than summer trees. I love to see the lines of them, the structure. Talk to me in June, though. I'll be in love with June trees, too.

When I was cleaning up from dinner last night, and bent over these to smooth the tablecloth, I breathed in spring. It's far off, I know. But the paperwhites made me think it.

The kids regularly abandon common sense for fashion. If you work for social services, it needs to be said that they have all been provided with proper snowboots.

I spend so much time here. Sometimes I feel like I'm standing guard. Sometimes I'm completely absorbed by what I'm making, and I'm never calmer, happier.

Enjoy the weekend, inside and out. Thanks for reading.
tt

The Poorly Bed

My birthday girl was knocked down for the count by the cold and flu season; no sleepover.

I know what you're all thinking, but I was really, very sad for her. And for her friends, who are so sweet, and called to say get well.

She has good friends. Just like her mama. You know who you are.

Thanks, friends. Thanks for reading.

tt

Everyone has a story

I was trying to find a quote I'd read recently about how everyone feels sad, or scared, or lonely, or unsure at some time. Or maybe it was that you should be kind to people because we all have the same fears, we all feel low, now and then. Or that we are all (maybe, it's just most of us, though) trying our best, and that we should keep this in mind as we come across each other during the course of the day. The course of our lives. We forget this at our peril.

I couldn't remember exactly what I'd read, though. So instead, I found this long ago post by someone I've never met, and it sounded pretty close to what I was thinking about in the first place.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.

tt

Friday Happiness :: Birthday Edition

Tomorrow is my birthday. My forty-second.

I was going to write a witty (I wish!) post about what I want for my birthday. I still might, so you're not out of the woods, yet.

But in looking around for a picture, I found this one, and so I'm going to bore you with a story, instead.

Here I am, at the bar at Buffet de la Gare, the most perfect example of a French bistro that can be found in these parts, without having to take a plane(or a train, for that matter.) I am here to celebrate my birthday, with girlfriends, earlier this month.

But I have to tell you, that the first time I came here still holds such resonance in my heart, that I can not return without being steeped in love and family and memory.

I was turning thirty. I had a newborn baby, my first. I had moved back to the suburbs from the city, was learning how to be a mother, re-learning how to be a daughter who now needed a grandmother for her own daughter, and was re-folding my self into the family I had inevitably pushed away from. When I write those words, I am envisioning the movement a swimmer makes, when they push off the wall after a dizzying flip turn, to shoot themselves back in the direction from which they just came.

My brother Glenn and his wife had arranged a party to celebrate. Me. They arranged it all, as they have so many things for me, since they met and fell in love when I was all of five years old. If I ever needed somewhere to look for an example of what love is, other than my own parents, I have never needed to look far.

That birthday at Buffet de la Gare was memorable for so many reasons. It was the first time I had ever left my baby with a sitter. It was a glamorous night with red wine, and cassoulet, and creme brulee, and a dark brown silk nightgown wrapped up in tissue paper. I felt, for perhaps the first time, like a grown-up. Someone who would be brought out to such a place for their birthday. Someone who would be given a negligee. Someone who needed a sitter.

But I mostly remember this: in the car on the way to the restaurant, my brother asked me what I had thought my life would be like at thirty. And if I was happy now that I was there.

And my answer? I had always hoped that by thirty I would be married, and have a house, and have a baby. So...yes! Was.I.ever.happy.

Well...

If you've been paying attention here, you may know that my answer was not the end of my story. But it wasn't not the truth, either. Maybe what I know now, twelve years later, is that the question my brother asked, can't be answered easily, completely, or immediately. That there is a sliding scale that has to take into account what you know you want, know you need, and what you are capable of being, before you can spit out a final rating on what's what.

So, there I sat in that restaurant again, last week. They've done some renovations and the new owners are back. It looks lovely.

I didn't need a sitter this time; I had my husband at home, drawing cartoons and shepherding six girls through their bedtime routines. My newborn was doing seventh grade math, and my third newborn was asleep in a big-girl bed. I was with friends the likes of which I never had when I was an isolated new mother, living in the back-of-beyond, and trying to figure it all out. I wasn't that thirty year old anymore, but I didn't feel all that much older, either.

So, what do I have to say now, on the eve of my forty second birthday?

Ask me again, Glenn. Ask me again.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Good day. Sunshine.

I know I should be posting some pictures from the opening last night. Telling you all about how it went. How so many people came that it was hard to move around, hard to see the walls. About how many people bought so many pieces: our biggest "success" yet, if one were the sort to measure success by such a thing. I could tell you how good it felt to have friends and strangers walk through the door, excited from the day, and fully in the spirit of this thing we are doing.

But I really don't feel like it. Truth is, I'm never very good at doing the thing I'm supposed to be doing. I guess I have "authority issues".

I wish, too, I were capable of saying something poignant or profound about yesterday's main event. But so many others have said it so well, I'm mute. You all know how I feel about it, anyway. Because you probably feel the same way. Awed. Relieved.

Besides, I have a daughter home from school today, and frankly, all of the other stuff, the outside-of-this-house, whole-wide-world, national stage, current events stuff, doesn't seem so topical to me right this minute.

Right this minute, this is it.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.

tt