I'm headed to bed early tonight. The only thing missing in the photo above is me. I've been tired all day, humming "Cicadas and Gulls" from Feist's new album (which I adore) to myself. The day was cold, and each proceeding day is to be colder and wetter. I came home to a package - a new book not yet on the bookshelves. Somehow I was asked if I'd like an advanced copy of James Wolcott's new memoir Lucking Out. Um, yes. I'm still not entirely sure how my name got on whatever list, but I am grateful. I already dove into it and am loving it. Thanks Mr. Wolcott, for saving me from a night of bad tv with your delightful prose. I'm headed back into it now. Full review when I'm done.
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