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I just read a review that makes me want to see it right this instant, even though the instant before I had no interest. I love Alice in Wonderland and I love Johnny Depp, but I have a sense of disappointment about Tim Burton these days that made me think he wasn’t going to make an Alice I could love. The review changed my mind. Except it doesn’t open until midnight!

Today feels like a movie day in any case. Hmmm. It also feels like a do-your-imitation-of-a-slug day. What to do, what to do?

I took this picture the other day. I looked up and said, “Oh, I wish that room were mine.” I had the same feeling of longing though when I saw the room below. I’ve decided the room to the left would be my study, and the room below would be my bedroom. In my fantasy perfect apartment. Where I am a best selling author to the left, and an orphan consigned to the attic in the picture below (think Shirley Temple in The Little Princess).

Wednesday. I make the mistake of reading most of the health articles in the Times and the conclusion seems to be: move all the time. Never sit still. Otherwise you will DIE.

I used to walk for an hour every day, for the pleasure of it and for the exercise, but I don’t do that so much anymore. I’m pretty sure I still walk more than most people, but maybe I should go back to that. I exercise regularly, and would keep that up, but maybe I should add the daily walk back in.

I shot this small wooden house tucked behind some other buildings off Canal Street. Wooden buildings always get my attention because there’s so few of them. I love spotting them in old photographs of Manhattan as well.

Buddy came through his first checkup since going on chemotherapy with the “Cat Who Looks the Least Like He Has Cancer” award. The vet said no one who works with cancer cats would pick him out as a cat with cancer.

To me he looks like skin and bones, but she saw a big cat. He’s gained only the tiniest bit of weight, but since I’m pretty sure he lost even more following his first visit he’s definitely on the upswing. Needless to say my mood is great. (Aside from cancer sticker shock. Do you know what I’ve spent so far?? $2,716. Mother of God. And I am far far far from done.)

So yeah. Good times. Cats doing well, nice dinner last night, choir ahead tonight, and Jake chose Vienna. I know she wasn’t the popular choice, and she isn’t the girl for me—although I found her oddly more likable and real—she was perfect for the kind of guy who sent the most fascinating woman home the very first night, the air national guard captain.

From Barbara. Pretty undeniable. I mean come on. Look at that coy little face.

Finney had just jumped on my lap, missed, but wouldn’t admit to failure and so he dug his claws in, wouldn’t let go and ripped the hell out of my legs. I screamed bloody murder of course, and this is Finney looking at me like, “What? What did I do?” And Buddy has strolled over to say, “Please say he has to take a pill now because of this.” (Buddy get pills all day long. Thinks it is most unfair.)