18 January 2003:
  Freaking out man, I'm freaking out.  Too much to do, not enough time, or energy, or concern.  Not true.  I watched "The Dangerous Lives of Alter Boys" (two happy thumbs up) and now feel all warm and fuzzy about my kids.  But still, freaking out man.
  And whaddya mean, he asks about me all the time?  Bring THAT up.
Back it up sister.
21 January 2003:
  I feel winsome yet weary.  I need sunshine.  My life is a Joni Mitchell song.   (Je me souviens d'un bon homme qui followed me playing his clarinet the entire way down the Champs Elysees jusqu'a l'Arche de Triomphe.  Pendant ces vingt minutes, tout etait parfait.  Paris was everything I needed it to be.  Was it for you too, Joni?)
28 January 2003:
  It was positively balmy today at -16.  Didn't even do up my parka! 
I've spent the last two weeks cursing the bone-chilling numbness that is a prairie winter.  Millions, nay, billions of people have no concept of this cold.  Why, oh why did my ancestors troop this far across the country and plant their flag right here?  (Did they happily scan the barren horizon?  Did they grunt with satisfaction?)  Not a tree in sight.  Not a hill in sight.  Nothing. 
  And yet...I step outside, and the silence is deafening, so loud I think my head may  explode.  I have yet to find this quiet anywhere else.  And the sky.  Millions of diamonds suspended in the blackest velvet imagineable, twinkling just beyond my fingertips. 
   The prairies are about contemplation and garnering strength.  This is not a place for hiding.  As much as I complain, I understand this.  As much as I hate it, I embrace this.  As much as I scorn, I need this.
9 February 2003:
  The roomies get home tomorrow so I'm frantically cleaning up, planning menus, getting back into a collective frame of mind...they sure are the greatest, smartest, coolest people around. We will sit around the kitchen table, and this time I will ask questions and they will tell stories. Yay, Mum and Dad!  You rule! 
8 February 2003:
  You are pure sweet energy wrapped up in a beautiful shining case.
I am humbled by your strength.
I carry your smile with me and pray to Everyone and Everything.
Please Please Please Please Please.
11 February 2003:
  Ahh, the sweetest of all surprises:  the storm day.
13 February 03:
  This frustration and restlessness must leave my body.  Within the next 48 hours, I need to a) shave my head b) quit my job or c) move to India.  Or, the lesser chosen but equally great d) all of the above.  Angst and antsies be gone!
16 February 03:
  Or, I could just get really loaded and dance my blues away...
20 February 03:
  It's the apathy that's killing me.  These kids are four months away from the "freedom" they can't stop talking about, but they have this ridiculous cynicism about everything life is.
  Guess what, friends!  You've got sixty more years (if you're lucky) on this little planet of ours.  Best to find something you can get excited about.'Cos right now...
  You're lame and boorrrring.
22 February 03:
   At this point, I am blindly reaching out to everything and anything. "Really, a pastry chef?  Tell me about that."
  The wheels are turning.  And churning.  And the cries of domesticity are growing.  I've been a guest here for over a year.  Enough.  I must unpack my boxes and my mind and relish my own space. Sit. Settle.  Be still. 
  And if that doesn't work?
23 February 03:
  An afternoon with that baby girl is pure therapy.  Laura:  now with walking capabilities!
28 February 03:
  It's cold.  Still.
No more sob stories!  Take me home!