this is Fiona just before Christmas (we took her that day to get the Santa picture . . . Santa wasn't terribly lively, and she didn't seem to enjoy it all that much, but we had a nice day). this is me, playing "mommy," which is fabulous. now, here is what i'm supposed to do: maybe we should change out these shopping mall rental carts so that they are not cars but ponies. i mean, if you want to encourage a fantasy, you can do better than a frightening anthropomorphized car, right? and maybe building these fantasies early . . . (well, the pony is a classic . . . maybe we could make it a segway? a bicycle? . . . i say all this despite my loving devotion to driving my car . . . and i love my car, a silver honda element exp) . . . maybe that's not such a good idea. see, this is how i'm supposed to think . . . like my colleague who doesn't own a TV . . . which i sort of admire but CANNOT IMAGINE for myself. i need my hour of E television "news" and whatnot . . . it's like taking a valium on the flight to Paris, which you don't actually need, the valium, because they let you hang out at the "bar," the cart w/ all the liquor at the back of the plane, for as long as you like (need) . . . i took a couple of little cognacs for my aunt and uncle in Germany . . . really, you can just hang there and drink whatever and however much you like. i don't drink much, though. i did enjoy the wine w/ dinner, which is remarkably fancy on Air France . . . and i did enjoy the valim . . . but see here i can see that my desire to travel to Paris this summer is still hanging around, despite my concessions to reality. ca va. sort of.
moving on . . .