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I took this picture of the hippie van that’s always parked on Perry Street yesterday afternoon, while we were still at the level of a dusting.  By the time I left for choir it was a winter wonderland out there, but I forgot to bring my camera.

A little panicked about all I have to do today. My to-do list:

– Send out Facebook invites.
– Write pitches for science articles.
– Decide about launch party and firm up.
– Verify projector available for presentations.
– Get posters made for places without projectors.
– Finish presentation.

Not very exciting, I know.  I’m going to this WTC Tribute Center event later. Should be interesting:

Lower Manhattan History Tour
Wednesday, February 4 – 6:30 – 8:00PM

Local historian Oliver Allen shares stories about neighborhoods and architectural landmarks.

But I’m not.  I’m feeling completely frazzled and how am I going to finish all things I need to get done??

I shouldn’t complain.  All the things I have to do are in support of something I love to do: writing. I just worry that I won’t get them done, won’t do a good job, and yesterday for the first time it occurred to me: what am I going to wear to all these things I’m scheduling??  This just occurs to me now??  What, did I stop being a girl or something?

This gas pump sits in a lot on the corner of Hudson and Charles.  Or is it 10th?  (My brain is useless these days.) The lot was owned by one of the most hated landlords in the Village, who has since died.  It’s a terrible waste of space, although I would hate to have some ugly building going up in its place.

Live West Village of NYC Update:  It’s snowing!  Yay!! Our choir director already sent out email reminding us that we never cancel for weather and rehearsal is still on.  (The only day he ever cancelled was 9/11.)

I think my window has been good for my new plant.  Before …

And after.  See how much fuller it is!  Not very symmetrical though.

And yet, here I am.  Who’s a good boy??  Yes, you are Finney.  Kinda.  (Finney is next to me.)

A friend of mine is collecting love stories for a book. Right now they’re appearing in a series on Salon called Americans Talk About Love. There’s two up now, and I read the one from Louise.

Please go read Louise’s story, but also, please, please read the comments (called letters on Salon).  I was stunned.  I had all sorts of feelings about Louise’s story, and I didn’t see all the hate coming.  It’s astounding.  Who are these people?

I tried posting a link, but it doesn’t work. Go to Salon and look on the left under Special Features.

The guy that is collecting these stories, John Bowe, did a similar book with his sister Marisa, (she’s the one that’s my friend, I know John through Marisa) called Gig: American’s Talk About Their Jobs.  If you’d like to share your love story, they’re collecting all kinds. Here’s their plea on Salon:

We want to know about every type of love in the United States: From rich, poor, left, right, long, short; from Alaska to the Florida Keys. If you think we should interview you or someone you know write us.