It's great to see you. I have a baby, yes, a girl. She's home now. With her dad. I'm not working, no, not really. We live in Gloucester. Just bought a house. What are you up to?

Hi! Yeah, this is great. I'm not sure if you saw me with my husband. I eat breakfast with a lot of men. But we've been married for seven years. No, just one, she's lovely. I like it a lot. Good to see you too.

So, you live in Gloucester still? Me too. I never see you. I have a baby. We walk downtown. What do you do with your time? Financial advisor? I never would have guessed. I play violin. At a third-grade level. Maybe fourth. What music have you been listening to?

Read any good books lately? I read that when I was pregnant. Yeah, I used to say when people asked if I wanted a boy or a girl that I wanted a boy OR a girl. She's a girl. Abigail. Tell your wife I'm sorry she didn't come. And I'm sorry. I hope she's doing well.

I remember catching minnows with you when we were in sixth grade. No, we only did it once, but the way they moved in the sun, shiny and silver... Your Abby is 4? She must be lovely. A tomboy? I guess mine will be too, with all of those cousins. We should get together sometime.

So, you knit? Me too. Do you remember when you pushed me out of our group of friends in sixth grade? It was for the better, I think, especially after seeing you all here. You look good, pretty hip, but what the hell does that get you in Gloucester? Anyway, I like your hair. I don't think I'll bring my film in anymore. I wonder what else your friends know about me now.

Have you got any extra drink tickets? It's good to see everyone. I'm not good at burning bridges but I'm great at letting them crumble under their own weight. I had a crush on you in seventh grade but you were cuter then. And less of a flake. Your engaged? And living in Kingston? I don't know why you would live there. But living here doesn't seem to matter much, nobody leaves their houses anyway. I'm a rare book dealer. Yeah, lots of money to be made there.

Funny, yeah. No, I get out a lot, even with the baby. I bring her to a bar on weekends to wacth soccer. A Scottish team. You don't play anymore? That's too bad. I can see your wife is furious with me for talking to you. That's okay. I'm just trying to talk to everybody I recognize. The airforce? New Jersey? Wow.

This is your boyfriend in the Red Sox shirt? Nice to meet you. We new eachother a long time ago. Used to swim to Ten Pound Island and flirt with tuna fishermen on the docks. You're living a few houses down from my sister. Are you still hanging out with the guy I had a restraining order on? I really never understood taking his side. I didn't ask anyone to take sides. Just not to tell him where I was going to be. That's okay. Everything passes.

Bathtub caulked, ceiling painted. Everything done means something left undone.

Slices of quince for breakfast. No runcible spoon- does that affect flavor? I always assume that fruit we Americans tend not to eat is tart and not suitable for smoothies. I like tart. The quince, however, is not tart. Its texture is a little grainy, like pears from the tree in the back yard. Its flavor is light, like watered-down old wine. A little musty. I think I will cook the rest to see if it improves.

I was just saying last night that I hadn't seen Woody HArrelson for along time and there he is today on Ellen. Doing Elvis.

Abigail has fallen asleep. Today isn't going so well. I had an idea of what I should do today but it depended on other people and they didn't know. I tried to tell them. Now I am contemplating the list of things I could do today. Paint the bathroom ceiling. Put weather stripping on the cellar door. Recaulk the bathtub.

None of these things sound good to me today.

When ABigail wakes up maybe I will drag her out. The car doesn't like starting these days but we are picking up some kids at Waring this afternoon. Maybe a little trip to Cabot Street. I'm sure we'll figure something out.

The thing about it is that you never know when someone is thinking about you. My ficus tree is dropping its leaves, I haven't found a place it likes in this house yet. Ficus generation.

I don't know what my options are but for this: I must not add to the confusion. Two new valves for radiators. I will master this system by spring. I need a mirror and clear plastic. Power tools and foam.

Each move leaves a six. This is Main Street, this is Rogers, that is Porter. Two bars closed. One owned by the cook from the White Lion, the other by a new friend. One building torn down at the station. Another one, as well, but earlier and already replaced. It's easy to mess things up these days. Just one slip and it's done. Note: Do not remove weight-bearing walls on the first floor. How many restaurants does any one person need? Or any three?

I used to read things and hope that they were written for me. I know better now.

Oil burner's broke again, we all have to break sometime. Ice cream is cheaper than Zoloft and doing the dishes tonight makes tomorrow better. Even if it's cold. Abby's talking to a ball and I am trying to keep a positive solitaire score until the diapers are ready for the drier. Or is it dryer? For the life of me I can't remember. Abby's talking is nearing crying.

Spit up on mu shoulder and I wonder what will give next. The neighbor tried to trade the cover of my garbage can for his ratty one in the wind this morning. Caught in the act. Not that he thought mine was his but it was easier than looking...

Electric heat upstairs so we won't be so cold. Isn't there always something to complain about? Life is good here with this little girl, her coos and smiles, and still I throw disinfecting wipes across the room. Because I don't get upset often I shouldn't get upset and when I do it doesn'y show so tonight I throw things and they come to an abrupt stop under the cold radiator. A couple tears and that doesn't help anything, family is still family and ashes thrown to Ipswich Bay can not be gotten back. Decisions made can not be changed when pride is on the line. You can't make a son visit his mother or a father visit his daughter. You can't stop a train wreck even if you see it happening.

Coffee with Gerrit this afternoon. Got a package from Glasgow, registered mail, signed for it at the post office. Walked down Dale Ave next to a man in Patriots gear who talked to me the whole time. Saw a woman at the Lone Gull who sort of knew me but couldn't figure how. Spoke with Jack at Mystery Train about babies and writing.

Abigail keeps turning her head like it's all the rage. Talk to the curtain. Wave at the light. Peek-a-boo! I see you.

I wish there were more Moomin books to read. That someone would stop by and say "Hey, want to go geet a quick drink?" That politicians didn't interupt soap operas. That I got more mail.

Why is it so hard to call repair people? Other people don't think they should be plumbers, carpenters and electricians. Why does it make me feel so useless?

Some good advice from eeksey peeksy.

Truth be told I am sick of cool. Like heavy talk with an upspeak like having a dream of talking like talking like yeah. Black and white and drunk and my art and yeah and wow. Of winning and losing and co-authors and blocking projects knit by other people. Complaining and matter and driving around looking at signs- Welcome home sailors and marines and soldiers and No More Bush and Lordy Lordy.

I have to admit I don't understand my boiler. How to keep the water in the glass tube right and which way to turn the vents. Can't afford to have the guy come show me and don't have the guts to admit it anyway. May go to the heating supply store near the state fish pier and ask with babe on my hip. It's cheaper that way. I need a new vent anyway.

What is this crap movie? Animated people talking about dreams. Crap. Referring to Lorca, of course.

I am also sick of weird.

If there are beautiful women at a party and I don't feel beautiful I am not one of them. I do not feel beautiful. I feel more like a machine. There is a list of things that need to be done and I will turn myself on and do them. I will turn myself off and rest. Repeat. No, that's not true. I wish I felt like a machine. There is a list of things I need to do but because I feel about too many things I can't seem to get them done.

I wish I were watching Monday Night Football with Jim Dunn.

Bills keep coming bills are always coming and no one no one knows how to pay them. Camper has a monkey shoe I can't resist but will. Tomorrow might bring me to Portsmouth for Kerry but the baby's in charge and I have no definite plans. Monkey shoes are in Portsmouth. Monkey shoes or boiler? Heat or food or fashion?

I need to say this before I forget: Fuck Curt Schilling.