Condensed version: Pizza and ice cream with new friends in the 'hood. Walking home in the mist, one kid each. Good night. Good morning. Sneaks on. Three-hour Digs-stroll - with a foggy start - for leeks and bagels. Over the bike path and through the woods. Potato leek soup. Irish soda bread. Corned beef. Boiled cabbage. Fruity rainbow. Lisa's mint-chocolate-ice-cream pie. Shamrock tattoos on little faces. Leprechaun Love!!! Guinness. Sleeping in. Church Street cut short by an earache. Snuggling on the couch. Running in dance clothes to the Postal Service station on Pandora. Characters cruising by on bikes, moseying along in groups. Woman carrying a green umbrella. Strange. Cut to a subway scene, summer of '97: bittersweet mix on my taxi-cab yellow Walkman, supersad to leave Manhattan. I'd be back, then gone again. Memory's such a fascinating thing. First cheeseburgers of the season. Scrubbing off shamrocks. Sunny commute. Sunny cube. Sunny walk. Grateful. Hard to work. It's spring.
... and I'm still afraid of driving in cities. More than a quarter through my year. Must. Get. Moving. Nothing like numbering your days to make them fly by faster. Damn.