Stacy Horn

I thought I should post a picture of 1 World Trade Center from my window now, so I can compare it to whatever it looks like when it’s finished. Stupid building across the street blocking it.

Actually, I shouldn’t zoom in, so you can see what it really looks like from my window. Okay, took another shot. The second shot gives a more accurate view. It’s about a mile away.

By the way, is anyone watching American Idol? Steven Tyler grew on me and I believe he’s a decent guy, but they are not doing him any favors when they show him telling a father that his fifteen-year-old daughter is hot, moist and humid. Ugh. I mean UGH! Then they show this parade of girls claiming to have crushes on him? I have got to believe they’re just sucking up. I’m sure they’re excited to meet him, but I do not believe they want to … date him.

Oh yeah, there was also the part where they show him very gamely and not at all enthusiastically kissing the “grandmother,” who is probably his age or only a few years older, but we’re supposed to believe that girls 45 years younger or more would have not similar feelings about kissing him??

This top was in a shop where everything costs a million dollars so I cannot have it, but I do love it.

Yesterday I ended up having one of those days where I worked for ten hours straight on one small section of the book, and didn’t get it where it needs to be. I feel like watching tv for ten hours to balance it out.

Meditate. (Done.)
Blog. (Doing.)
Start in on book edits. (Must do.)
Swim. (Could skip and do an at-home exercise.)
Get cat food and other food supplies. (Really should do.)
Work on Verdi Requiem. (Must do.)
Start work on taxes. (Really must do.)
Find a day job. (Really really must do.)

Finney and Buddy’s to-do list:

Eat. (Done.)
Nap. (Doing.)
Bite someone. (Really should do.)
Break something. (Really should do.)
Nap. (Must do.)
Eat. (Must do.)
Strategically place self on couch to make it impossible for Stacy to move or reach the remote. (Really really must do.)

I get a lot of email from the friends and family of murder victims, due to my book about the NYPD’s cold case squad, and the blog I maintain specifically to help people (and to try to sell books too, of course). They ask for help, I tell them what to do and most of the time I never hear from them again. I wonder how they made out, but I realized I already know.

When I was working on my book I studied the numbers very carefully, had a statistician check my work and wrote the following: “An unsolved murder has up to 5 – 10% chance of being cleared within one year after it goes cold. After two years, that chance decreases to less than 1%.”

So the chances are that all those people who have contacted me over the past six years still don’t have any more answers than they did when they first wrote me.

An old-time barber shop on 11th Street that I pass by every Tuesday on my way to choir practice.

There’s this horrible gap between my temporary teeth and my gum line, which you can see when I smile wide. At least three people fainted from the sight of it on my way home. One child burst into tears. And this dog barked and barked and barked. I think he was trying to warn everyone. It won’t be fixed for another week and a half, so if you see me, cross to the other side of the street.

I can still sing, however. I may look like a monster, but my voice is unchanged.

One World Trade Center, rising up and up. This picture accurately captures my mood for the past two days. Dreary. Hopeless. Mostly about my book. I just can’t get it to where I want it to be. But I met with my agent and now I feel ready to try again. For the billionth time. Hope has returned. Thank you, Betsy.