obama us and tattoos

This is the view from my window as I write.

In one month it will look quite the same, perhaps without the snow cover (I promise to report).

But here in New England people rejoice, probably because they are looking at the calendar and not out their window. The calendar tells us we are headed for glory. The calendar tells us not to fear. The calendar prevails, dear reader, always. We follow it. We believe it.

Turning the corner for spring is always an effort. It doesn't seem possible. We are lured to buy those last winter markdowns because what do we ever wear besides winter clothes? The spring clothes have been displayed for two months. We have laughed at them. I certainly have.

We do not confidently buy warm weather clothes until it is warm, and when is that? May? I don't THINK so. June? Okay, yes. In June we will fearfully buy a short sleeve top, but sometimes can't wear it.

Fashion choices seem sparse. I have walked through the mall and gagged. Everything is stone ugly.

I know it is truly spring when I cannot wear boots.

That may be the true rule.

I admit it is too warm now to wear scratchy woolly turtlenecks, as I did last Saturday night. So that is progress.





But don't you want to smack this girl?




How dare she go out in the cold like that? And what's with the huge handbag? Not that I mind a huge handbag, I must have one.

I like a vast space to put things in, I admit it. But even so. Death to her.

Winter clothes are still perfectly fine.

I'm having dinner with my agent next week. What will I wear?

A bientot
love,
becky

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