Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops.

Yes Babies, it's been some time since I've posted. A few major changes to report: I have a new job as an art instructor and advocate working with developmentally disabled adults. With the new job came a new beau. And I successfully completed DSP (Direct Support Professional) training, which means that I am legally certified to push people around in wheelchairs and take a rectal temperature, should the need arise. Actually, that last skill is no longer in demand, as our instructor kindly assured us, thanks to the glorious invention of the ear thermometer. Still, the mention of it drove me to ridiculous (anxiety induced?) fantasies of temperature- taking ornithologists (you know, birds don't have ears on the outsides of their heads...).

In other news, my friend Suzanne tells me that Kurt Vonnegut's death interrupted what was to be a year- long celebration of the author's life, sponsored by his hometown of Indianapolis. That's SO Kurt!! I never knew he had a mustache. I still can't picture it. All I see is that Magritte painting of the man with an apple hovering in front of his face, except in my version he has really wavy hair and does a cameo in a Rodney Dangerfield flick.