Here's what's weird: I arrive at this page and think... fuck, now that I'm talking to a therapist once a week, I have nothing to share with my friends. I'm drained! My verbal diarrhea is all seized up. It's a sensation akin to constipation.
The emotions I'm confronting in the shrink's office are so deeply disconcerting and enlightening - I want to smile and cry about everything.
As for kid news, Eloise doesn't have a broken foot. Just a bad sprain (inflicted by her twin sister of course).
Perhaps my next post will have pictures from our kid-free weekend in NYC... lots of good times, good food, good people (MY PEOPLE) and a beautiful wedding.
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