Paris

the girls in paris
Originally uploaded by Kit Pollard.

I seem to have finally overcome my jet lag long enough to stay awake all day...and post about my trip to Paris. It was a great week - lots of shopping and walking and eating and even some sight-seeing.

The picture above was taking our last night in Paris (photo credit: Sarah/Thierry), just outside Cafe Marly overlooking, obviously, the Louvre pyramid. At this point, we were all tired - and very, very hungry - but don't we look happy just to be in Paris?

I'm going to post a bunch of pictures, rather than transcribe all of my notes from the whole trip...even I don't find reading a bunch of my own inside jokes particularly funny. But pictures of Paris? Always welcome.

Les chambres sont petits.

tiny room
Originally uploaded by Kit Pollard.

Our flight to Paris (through Atlanta) was exhausting, thanks mostly to a miniature Serbian man who thought he was very, very funny and apparently didn't need sleep. So when we arrived at the hotel to learn that our rooms weren't ready, we weren't in the best shape. But we made the best of it and walked to the Monoprix (i.e. French Walmart) to stock up on snacks.

When we arrived back at the hotel - more than an hour later - we learned that Gilly and Sarah's room was ready, but Missy's and mine was not yet. No matter, we'll all have a snack in the room that was ready.

Little did we know that the room wasn't going to be big enough for the four of us at once. Especially not with all our luggage. Sarah had to go into the all to take this picture, which doesn't even really do justice to just how petit the room was.

It's a good thing we weren't there for the accommodations.

Shopping on the Rue

le metro
Originally uploaded by Kit Pollard.

After a big first night out in Paris, celebrating an American's 70th birthday, we punished ourselves by deciding to walk the zillion miles down the Rue de Rivoli to the Marais. Unfortunately, we didn't make it much past our block - we had to stop and have lunch, then nap, and go to the Monoprix. Then have Thai for dinner. Then not sleep at all, thanks to jet lag.

The following day, though, we got up early-ish and got out to go to the Marais. The day wasn't kind to anyone's feet (especially not poor Sarah) but it was nice out, and we all did end up with a lot of pretty new things.

Plus, I got a chance to take a few pictures of metro stops for my sister. She's writing her senior thesis on something that has to do with the art nouveau metro stops in Paris...hopefully some of what I got on film will help her.

Loving Monet Again

musee d'orsay
Originally uploaded by Kit Pollard.

After our walk down the Rue, we had a wonderful dinner Chez Yvette et Claude...a restaurant Sarah and Gilly's grandparents started visiting years ago. Then we had another big, huge night, followed by another tough day.

As punishment this time, we decided to do some hardcore sightseeing - not just shopping. So we went to the Musee D'Orsay, then, for some unknown reason, walked across the left bank to the Eiffel Tower. It was a pretty day, but hard. Probably not surprisingly, we all went to bed early that night.

Despite my extreme levels of tiredness, this day might have been my favorite...because of Monet. Monet was my, like everyone's, favorite artist when I was in eighth grade. But by the time I got a little older, the water lilies were so ubiquitous that my art snob self wrote them off. Not so anymore. Now that I've seen the Rouen series and some of the Giverny work in person, I'll never roll my eyes at a water lilies coffee mug again.

Plus, I got to see Manet's Emile Zola and Olympia. Totally breathtaking, especially when considered in the context of the sociopolitical climate of Manet's Paris. Which is how I considered them all through college.

Then, of course, the walk to the Eiffel, which was way too long, took us through all of the cute streets of Paris, lined with flower shops and cafes. That might be what I love most about Paris...that the streets actually look like the pages of my French III book.

La Tour Eiffel

la tour eiffel
Originally uploaded by Kit Pollard.

Sarah took this picture as we approached the Eiffel Tower - after several hours of thinking we were so close.

It's hard to comprehend just how large the tower actually is. The one in Vegas is an exact replica, one-quarter of the size, and that even looks enormous. But in real life...well, let's just say that it seems close enough to walk to from very, very far away.

Sous de la Tour Eiffel

under the eiffel tower
Originally uploaded by Kit Pollard.

Sarah (clearly a much better photographer than I am) took this photo from just under the tower. I'm almost dizzy just looking at it.

Clearly, during this portion of the trip, several TomKat references were made.

Sacre Coeur

sacre coeur from the eiffel tower
Originally uploaded by Kit Pollard.

If you squint, you can see Sacre Coeur, one of the most beautiful churches I've ever seen, on the horizon. Sarah took this picture, too, from the second etage.

We didn't go all the way to the top of the tower, but even this middle section made me feel a little sick. (Which is interesting because last time I was in Paris, I went all the way to the top and had no problem. All mental, clearly).

La Protest

Seen on the Boulevard de Madeleine a few days into our trip.

protest
Originally uploaded by Kit Pollard.

I wasn't actually a part of this protest - I didn't even see it. Sarah, Missy and Gilly did, though. It had something to do with illegal immigration...and a lot of gendarmes.

What I find most interesting about this picture is the little girl, sticking her face in the big sign. Parisian kids fascinate me in so many ways - for some reason I'm amazed that little kids grow up speaking French and living in such a fantastic city. I'm even more obsessed with this little girl - is she growing up as a part of a protesting culture and in Paris?

La Seine

the seine from the eiffel tower
Originally uploaded by Kit Pollard.

Taken (again by Sarah) from the premier etage of the Eiffel Tower. This is a remarkably clear view of the Seine and buildings on the right bank.

At this point, I was really not feeling very well. I think I need to eat and sleep...at a lower altitude.

Not All Protests and Politics

toothbrush holders
Originally uploaded by Kit Pollard.

Post-protest, we did spend some time asking around to figure out what was going on. At this point in the trip, fairly last in the week, we also realized that we had no idea what was happening in America. On Thursday, we met a couple from Texas in the hotel lobby. They told us they'd been on a trip in Vienna and were unable to go home because Hurricane Rita hit Houston...so they had to spend a few days in Paris, waiting for relief efforts to begin.

Hearing this definitely made me a little homesick and I started to feel unsettled and out of touch. I talked to Cooper every day, but I was definitely missing my daily blog-reading. Plus, after almost a week without a to-do list, I was getting a little antsy.

Fortunately, a quick list of things I had left to buy, along with a visit to a very fun, colorful, very French shop put me back in a good mood. Sarah bought the little toothbrush holders in the picture at that shop...they're so cute and ridiculous and exactly what I needed to see at that point in the trip.

French men are so thoughtful.

flowers for Gilly
Originally uploaded by Kit Pollard.

Gilly was lucky enough to meet a very cute, very nice, not very English speaking Frenchman during our week in Paris. Thierry, new best friend to all of us, drove a velo and was charming in all the right ways - he even found Gilly's hotel and delivered beautiful flowers with a note.

Tres sympathique!

"But that is too much food."

seafood
Originally uploaded by Kit Pollard.

On our last day, Sarah, Missy and I went to the Puce - the flea market at Saint Ouen. After several hours of clutching my purse to avoid pickpockets and a sketchy metro ride, we made it back home with lots of great buys we couldn't have found at home.

Then we ended the week just like we started it: eating. Our last night in Paris, we did our best to eat everything French we hadn't yet had. We went to a brasserie just around the corner from our hotel and ordered (with Thierry's help): oysters (served with a delicious vinegar and shallot sauce), shrimp, bulots (we think they're periwinkles, served with homemade mayonnaise), steak au poivre, escargots, and multiple desserts. Plus, of course, cafe au lait and chocolat chaud.

Our American-ness was never more obvious than it was at this dinner. Asking Thierry where we should eat, we explained that we wanted both oysters and meat. He said, "but that is too much food!" We laughed. Then we ate everything we were served.

Why anyone wonders why Americans are fatter than the French is a mystery to me.

Really, though, this was a great and fitting end to the trip. The next morning, we were bleary-eyed and a little sad to go to the airport, but at least we felt like we'd done everything we came to do (even if we missed out on a little sight-seeing we'd planned).

Our flight home wasn't great - it was delayed and we missed our connection in Atlanta. But it was well worth it - both for the going and the coming home.

I still have an Event Staff t-shirt.

Stereogum is right - I think we can laugh at this Onion article. Especially everyone who went to college in Virginia, because everyone knows that if you went to school in VA, you were a real Dave Matthews fan. There at the beginning. My first show was at Lake Matoaka, October 1993. Sponsored by Sigma Nu and Theta Delt. Dude. Awesome.

Of course, it was actually pretty amazing, as were all the other times I saw DMB live after that. Until Nissan, sometime around 1999. Then it was too crowded, too far away, and too young. Or really, I was too old. At 23.

OK, now I'm shifting from thinking that article was funny to it making me sad that my college days are so far behind me. Where did my desire to see jam bands go? Or any band, for that matter. I haven't been to a real concert - the kind I bought tickets to in advance - since Bela Fleck in 2003. And that was all kinds of grownup. It was at the Lyric. We sat in our seats. We went out to a nice dinner beforehand.

It's like I don't even know myself anymore. Maybe lighting a little patchouli incense will make me snap out of it. (just kidding. That's probably half the reason I don't go to concerts.)

Design Lust

What began as mild interest sometime around 1998 has evolved into a full-fledged case of covet. I want an Eames lounge chair so badly I can practically taste it.

It all started with an issue of Flaunt. Every copy of the magazine includes some type of toy. One of those toys was a pop-up doll style Eames chair and ottoman. That sat on my desk at work for a year or two, then migrated to my house, then to an apartment, but was finally jettisoned (it was pretty ratty) when I moved in with Cooper. But I never forgot the love.

In December 2003, I began working in a Mies van der Rohe building in downtown Baltimore (the link is not to a picture of the Baltimore building, but to one that looks just like it, only bigger). The lobby was decorated just as Mies intended: with Barcelona chairs. Somehow, that intensified my appreciation for the Eames lounge (I like the Barcelona, too - I think its because they're in the same design family.)

Then came March of 2004. Two trips to Herman Miller. Cementing my desire. I sat in Eames chairs. I observed them in their natural habitats. I was on complete sensory overload for the entirety of both trips. The HM headquarters is spread out over several buildings - I've visited three (plus an intensely cool small hotel open only to HM visitors). One of the buildings is a showpiece for potential clients and includes a bunch of showroom-like spaces. The ones that highlighted the HM classics designed for the home nearly made me salivate.

Fast forward to last Sunday. I spent the day walking around a flea market in Paris (les puces de saint ouen), surrounded by some amazing french stuff. But what caught my eye? Anything mid-century American-modern. I just can't get enough of it.

Which all brings me to this morning: spent searching for Eames chairs on eBay. Alas, they are still way too expensive for Cooper to stomach. (I floated it with him last night. He looked like he swallowed something bad when I said $2000.)

Sigh. Maybe one day. Like when he retires.

Je suis chez moi

I'm back! And probably less French than ever. My accent managed to get worse while I was in Paris. My first night, I was all "je voudrais" this and "j'ai besoin de" that. But by the second to last night, I tried to say something (en francais) to a French girl, who then looked at me blankly and said, "I'm sorry, I don't speak English."

C'est la vie, je suppose. I did have a fantastic time and more detailed posts (with pics) will follow. Plus, I am very appreciative that Erin picked up my slack in my absence, though I didn't do quite as good a job taking pictures for her thesis as I'd hoped (I have some, though). And I'm not going to be quite over this Marty-JD INXS situation for a while (I have the episode on DVR. Not sure now if I'm going to watch it).

For now, I have what feels like about six weeks of laundry to do, a messy house, and a zillion emails. But such is the life of the jet-setter...

Au Revoir pour Maintenant

I'm leaving today for my week in Paris with Cooper's sister and two of his cousins. I'll be back next Monday night, surely fluent in French and possessing that intangible Parisian style. And not fat, of course. Because French women don't get fat.

In my absence, my sister will pick up my blogging slack. As she is in college, I'll expect her to use her free time wisely, scouring the web for pictures of Britney baby gifts and such.

See you next week!

FCC Police State?

I, like a lot of people, thought that the entire brouhaha surrounding the Janet Jackson Superbowl episode was unecessary and overdone (I was watching the show, and didn't even notice that anything had slipped).

But after what I saw at the gym today, it'll be a while before I feel that the FCC is being dramatic again. I'm pretty sure we've got all the leniency we need.

Because what I saw was...American Psycho on USA at 2:30 in the afternoon. That's right, an incredibly disturbing movie on basic cable, just in time for kids getting home from school.

Surely they could've found a stray episode of SVU to air, couldn't they? Or just have shown My Cousin Vinny again? Everybody loves Joe Pesci. Everybody.

"Swords for 200, Alex"

In an effort to brush up on his knowledge of every single thing that ever happened ever prior to his upcoming Jeopardy tryout, my brother has been reading some sort of book on cultural literacy. I mentioned that he should also review the periodic table and some sciencey stuff. But now I realize the advice I should have given him: some of that time would be wisely spent memorizing the SNL Celebrity Jeopardy skits. Here they are.

If Tom makes it on Jeopardy, I expect him to work really hard to be funny, rather than lame, as is the standard, while he's talking to Alex. I am fairly certain a Sean Connery impression would be appropriate, though it should be a slightly subtle and obscure, to avoid being rude and unfunny.

In addition, I would like to hear the words "no talent ass clowns", or even NTAC, coupled with "my sister and her friends won $1000 in a bar trivia tournament - despite entering several weeks late."

Or even just a simple "Glen Stolfi has weird fingers."

And possibly a "my sisters and I have beaten my parents at holiday Trivial Pursuit twice in a row, making our record 3-50ish."

So much opportunity in those few moments on the Jeopardy stage. Not to be squandered.

Unsurprising

But sad nonetheless. Suzie went home last night. As good as she was, she really wasn't the right lead singer for INXS.

I was very happy, though, to see that Marty was #1. Sort of heartening that the rest of the viewers agree with me...

Everything Is Nothing Is Something Is Illuminated Is Close and Loud and What Is My Favorite Book?

After posting on the magic of the Traveling Pants series yesterday, I finished the second book. I'll be moving onto the third today.

Unfortunately, I don't have the third yet. The library was out. Instead, I filled my evening with my other new library book, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer. Cooper's cousin recommended it to me - she read it earlier this summer - and I'd read about it a few other places, so I thought I'd give it a try.

And it was OK. In all fairness, I only read the first 112 and the last 20 pages. That's pretty good, though, for me. After the first chunk, though, I couldn't pay attention to the story because I kept wondering if JSF consciously set out to write a post-Eggers version of Catcher in the Rye, or if it happened by accident.

I learned something, though. I learned that Catcher in the Rye is not my favorite book, though for years and years I've thought it was. I wish I could've found my copy last month, when I wanted to reread it. If I had, I would've realized then that, while it was my favorite book from eighth through twelfth grades, and while it did help me do well on the AP English test, and while it obviously stands up to the test of time, it just doesn't do it for me like it used to.

I'm a little lost now, though. I live in a world of absolutes and favorites. I make a lot of lists and cross things off - that gives me comfort. It also gives me comfort to be able to say "Bobby McGee is my favorite song and Catcher in the Rye is my favorite book." Even if those are both predictable choices, they've helped me define myself (to myself) for a long time.

So now I'm all adrift. I'm looking around my office at tons of books that I love, but none worthy of being my "favorite." Lots of Mr. Brightsides and even Tangerines, but no Janis.

So the search begins...

Last Night's Rockstar

We learned last night that the whole show will wrap up next week. INXS will choose from the final three and a new band will be born.

And I will be in Paris, far away from American network TV. Quelle desappointement.

Anyway, last night's show. First of all, while I like JD's song Pretty Vegas, it's not exactly versatile. He sounds exactly the same every time he sings it. And I'm not falling for the "softer side of JD" they tried to show. AND what was up with his kissing Dave Navarro's cheek? Totally weak version of that famous Navarro-Farrell tongue kiss from the mid-nineties.

I just don't like JD.

But I don't like Mig so much either, and he's the other pretty boy contestant. He seems nice enough, harmless. And his voice is fine. But I certainly wasn't surprised to learn that he'd been in Rent. His performances are so polished - they really feel like performances, not concerts. Last night he had the opportunity to sing "darker" songs. And his voice was dead on, but the spirit behind it just wasn't there. He's just not soulful.

Suzie and Marty, though...they are versatile and soulful. While I think that Suzie is wildly talented - probably the most talented contestant at this point - I don't think she's the next singer of INXS. I don't think they'll take the risk of going with a woman, and I don't think she has the right kind of voice for the group.

But Marty...I am officially over the David Spade-Hansen-Beck lookalike issue. If Suzie is the most talented, Marty is the biggest rock star on that show. I thought he was fantastic last night, I thought Trees translated really well into acoustic and it was super smart of him to change it up like that, and I thought that he was brilliant to talk to INXS about the next generation of the band, even if he sounded opinionated. His intensity (which was so apparent when he sang Creep) is exactly what INXS needs, in my humble opinion.

If INXS chooses Marty, I'll be impressed and I will know that they're dedicated to being the best band they can be today - that they're not interested in merely creating a mildly updated version of INXS circa 1988. Unfortunately, I'll also be surprised. Just as I don't think they'd risk choosing a woman, I don't know that they'll go for someone who's not an overt sex symbol. Great music or not, Michael Hutchence's appearance was important to the success of the original band.

My gut - and I hope I'm wrong - is that they're trying to convince themselves that going with JD would be OK. That it wouldn't be self-destructive.

I guess we'll see next week, though (and tonight). Or, rather, everyone else in America will see next week. I'll be setting my TiVo.

I am a thirteen year old girl.

Apparently, at least. A few weeks ago, a friend gave me her copy of Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. She'd read it for a book club and thought I'd like it (especially since she knows about all of my aborted efforts to write for young adult girls). I didn't pick it up right away - I had to finish the Jeffrey Steingarten book, then I got wrapped up in the Sunday Philosophy Club book.

Day before yesterday, though, I started it. And I finished it yesterday. This morning I went to the library and got the second in the series. I'm almost finished with that one now. They are so good.

They're not delicately and preciously written like the expatriates, or intricate and layered as Harry Potter. Or about food, like all the other books I've been obsessed with lately. They're just really good books about teenage girl relationships - friendships, relationships with parents, and with guys. They are also exactly the type of book I wish I could write for teenage girls.

Frighteningly like reading my diary, circa 1990.

The Good Kind of Gossip

My senior year in high school, I was nominated for "Class Gossip." Fortunately, I lost to my friend Cindy. I thought it was funny to be nominated, but I'm also well aware that "she's such a gossip" isn't a compliment.

But I still love a juicy story. And because of that, I am so thankful to be living in the days of celebreality. Between a handful of blogs and Us Weekly, gossip has become a nearly victimless crime (I mean, except for the paparazzi-plagued celebrities. But they get PAID FOR IT.)

Imagine - in the Middle Ages, gossipy women had only their immediate neighbors and leaders to talk about. I suppose over the next century or two, that circle expanded a bit, but not too much. At the turn of this century, movie stars began to emerge as public figures, but access to information about their lives - especially their personal lives - was still minimal. All those years, gossiping about neighbors was much more satisfying than talking about the famous.

But all that's changed now. I don't need to potentially hurt my friends' feelings by speculating on the health of their marriages or the cost of their jewelry. Not when Jessica is drunk and Paris is...Paris.

Sigh. The internet is so fantastic.

A Very Difficult Question

rothko
Originally uploaded by Kit Pollard.

The UK seems to be in some sort of "vote for the best of" frenzy these days. This Guardian article talks lists a ton of recent popular contests in which callers or emailers cast their votes for the "best" work of British art, "best" song, etc. I suppose this is highbrow meeting lowbrow in the very most current way.

The real purpose of the article, though, is to announce that one of the more popular contests - best artwork - is coming to America. Soon, the masses will have an opportunity to share their thoughts on what is the very best work of art in the world.

I'll apologize in advance for being a cultural elitist and art snob, but in what world is the American Idol viewership qualified to comment on this? The question is not "What is your favorite work of art?" - it is "What is the BEST work of art?"

And there is a huge difference. This Rothko happens to be my favorite work of art. I like the color, it makes me happy, etc., etc. But I certainly wouldn't call it "the best ever." That superlative should be reserved for something that's both beautiful to look at and intellectually riveting. Something that had an impact beyond the aesthetic.

Sure, a Rothko fan could make the argument that he was daring in his use of color, that his paintings had deeper meaning. Certainly I think they are full of emotion. But they're not Guernica.

I'm not suggesting that I'm qualified to make a "best ever" decision, either. Maybe if I spent the next twenty years studying art, maybe then I could offer an opinion.

And I am, truly, all for democratizing most things. But call me a cultural oligarchist, I just think that some opinions are best voiced by those with some knowledge about the subject. Anything else dumbs down the discourse.

September 11th

All day today I've been wondering whether I'd post about the fourth anniversary of September 11th. I had a nice, regular day eating dinner and reading Us Weekly with my friends - very September 10th. What happened four years ago has been in the back of my mind all day, but it's only been at the front for brief moments, like when I drove past a flag at half-mast.

Just a few minutes ago, though, I read something that made me want to post. Trent, in a very solemn tribute, listed the names of everyone who died in the attacks. It is a very, very long list. Scrolling through has much the same effect as visiting the Vietnam memorial - it's devastating in a quiet way.

My friend Greg Trost is on the list and even though I've known since about a week after the attacks that he was in the WTC that day, it's still a little shocking to see his name.

I don't really have anything new or insightful to say about September 11th. But after reading the list, I just didn't want the whole day to pass without saying anything at all.

Note to Tom and Erin

Get ready for Bennifer sightings.

I Can't Believe I'm about to Write These Words

This is an Ashlee Simpson song and I really like it. And I think that I will probably grow to like it even more as I hear it on the radio. It's catchy.

I am not a music snob AT ALL. And despite her alleged fall from grace I am still in awe of Jessica. But I just can't deal with Ashleeeeee. Until now. Maybe this is a turning point. Or maybe I can pretend to be ironic when I listen to the song.

Sounds a little like someplace Britney could go with her music, if she stopped being crazy. (OK, maybe even if she continues her WT crusade. But as long as she's barefoot and pregnant in gas stations, I can't let myself listen to her).

Maybe Ashlee is my new Brit? I have been feeling the lack of pop starlet in my musical life lately...

Somewhat Against My Better Judgment

I have gotten very involved in the INXS show. And I think it's SO good. I didn't watch for the first few weeks, out of respect for my eighth grade self (my obsession with Michael Hutchence can only be compared to young girls' 1986 Bon Jovi worship). Then, when I finally tuned in, I expected to see a train wreck.

I was so wrong. I mean, Dave Navarro is the very definition of "train wreck" - if he has any rock cred left after his cheesy "good job guys" role, I'll be very surprised. But the rest of INXS comes off as fairly serious and not nearly as opportunistic as having reality show suggests.

And the contestants. They're awesome. Since I came to the game late, I probably missed some of the less talented ones, but overall, I am so impressed with the people involved. They've got tons of musical talent and stage presence and truly seem different than standard reality "stars." I guess I expected the contestanst to be more Say What Karaoke than stadium-ready. I'm quite pleasantly surprised.

I would like to see JD given the boot, though. Must be a sign of maturity that his bad boy faux swagger does nothing for me except make me think he'd detract from the band's success. I think they must be keeping him around because he creates conflict and makes good TV. (Though I did think he put on a good show last night. I also thought his original song sounded pretty INXS-y...though maybe more mid-80's INXS than today.)

This week, I'm sorry to day, I'm almost positive that Jordis will be sent home. She tripped a little last night - and she can't afford to do that at this point in the game. I think things are looking better and better for Marty than they have for quite a while. He was good enough last night that I almost got past his eery resemblance to David Spade. Or the Hanson boys. Or Beck. Take your pick.

Just Read

Over the weekend, I finished yet another non-fiction book about food (must be my fifth or sixth this year). This one, The Man Who Ate Everything by Jeffrey Steingarten (food writer for Vogue), was recommended by my brother's girlfriend. And I'd pass the recommendation along.

It was not quite as speedy a read as some of the other books I've read this year, especially the Ruth Reichl memoirs. However, I can say without hesitation that I learned a lot from it - it's much more than just a collection of good short stories. Instead, it's a collection of interesting, engaging essays about finding the best food there is. Sometimes Steingarten is traveling, like when he's exploring Alsace in search of true sauerkraut. But sometimes he doesn't leave his own kitchen, where he does his best (usually eventually successfully) to make all different types of foods.

The book certainly has a scientific edge to it, which reminded me that there's a whole side to food that is more chemical than aesthetic. Sometimes, when I'm making up my own recipes, I focus so much on how food will look on a plate that I forget that theoretically, I could gain the knowledge necessary to develop meals that taste good, too. (At the same time, if I thought as much about molecular binding as Steingarten, I'd never make mashed potatoes again.)

I'm on to a new book this week. The Sunday Philosophy Club by Alexander McCall. Totally different - sort of a mild mystery. But food does play a role. Which makes me happy.

The Weather

Walking outside this morning, I thought the exact same thing I've thought on every nice day for the past four years: today is just like September 11th. Impossibly clear skies, sun shining, low humidity, eighty degrees. Perfect. But fragile.

This morning, and for the past week and a half, the beautiful weather has been even more poignant. Is it fair to enjoy it when there are thousands and thousands of people struggling in the south?

I'm trying to remember, now, when, after September 11th, it became OK to appreciate small good things, like the weather. But I can't. I do remember Giuliani going on SNL and telling Lorne Michaels that it was OK to laugh again. That was two weeks after the attacks. But I can't put my finger on when every moment of every day shifted from being mostly bad, sad and angry to mostly good and hopeful again.

The aftermath of this disaster is different, of course. Destruction on a much larger scale, and without an enemy to blame (though there certainly doesn't seem to be a shortage of people looking for someone to blame). Does that mean we mourn longer? Shorter? The same?

The one thing I do know is that I'll never experience another perfect early fall day without appreciating just how fragile it is.

Posting Will Resume...

Shortly. For real. After being at the beach for five days, I've had a lot of internet to catch up on. I'm exhausted.