|Subject:||[Hurdfr-paris] chili pepper|
|Date:||Wed, 11 Oct 2006 19:04:38 -0400|
|User-agent:||Thunderbird 184.108.40.206 (Windows/20060909)|
go somewhere I've never gone .
I plan to put a basket on the back. I knew, of course, that people would fall all over themselves wanting to purchase my beautiful, arty things. I walked past it so many times, gazing at it, wishing it would one day return to its former glory.
I will, because it's so enjoyable, persist in creating these things, in photographing people, and even do it for pay. I was feeling broke, but happy, and loving the fact that I didn't need to scrape up a few dollars for gas or bus fare to meet the ladies. Similarly, the coming home, it is not easy.
By the time I boarded the airplane and finished the Wall Street Journal I was a little frantic.
Today at midnight - right now, if you're up late like me and reading this - I launched a whole new network of stock blogs, Blogging Stocks. Everett, who's almost four, is a happy, dramatic and lovely child. As you must know, however, I'm a far better writer than I am speaker.
This thing has taken over my life, and that is a good thing.
We never made more than a quarter or two from our efforts. I even lauded his communication ability. If I'm going to a meeting or on an errand without the kids, I pick the bike. If you're participating, here's the pattern, in pdf format. There was a lack of communication with a notoriously difficult neighorhood association.
tell someone that I admire her . I was getting off my bike in front of Bar Pastiche, one of my new fave hangouts. I'm more of a person who captures the mood of an event.
For how he sometimes calls his baby brother "little fella" and pats him on the head.
He did want it, it turned out.
Oddly, someone had installed a little doo-dad that allowed the bike to be unscrewed and folded in half. You'll see I took photos. It was one of those mother-son moments that deserves to be celebrated with dim lighting and an operatic score. Finally, ready to jump out of my skin, I picked up the inflight magazine and saw all this empty space, in the margins of features, in the double-page photographs.
I see how the city is changing, how it remains the same.
I was meeting a bunch of mamas for a much-needed glass of pink Spanish wine and some tapas.
The next day, there was the trailer, ready to be attached.
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