ben and birdy

Bear with me, my friends. While I am entirely accustomed to expressing myself in an 800-word column (see, for example, my, ahem, newest column over at wondertime which used to be called "Naked Crabs," and now seems, er, not to be. . .) I am new to blogging. Mostly, I'm still writing a weekly column, and so I may not post here all that often. And yet. So many of you wrote me here to cheer me on, and I'm thrilled. It's funny--it feels more intimate or something. Like I can tell you here that I'm having a sad week, that an old (but young) friend of ours died on Tuesday, that I cried peeling peaches and groused at Ben while he was playing *solitaire*, for god's sake. And I don't even have to turn it into a lesson I've learned. (The lesson is: People our age get breast cancer. The lesson is: Leave your children alone when they're playing cards by themselves, for god's sake. The lesson is: Love harder, but more easily too.) I will try to write here more regularly, and also more coherently. But please read that weekly wondertime column because they are counting clicks over there, if you know what I'm saying. I'm saying bear with me.