Good morning. Betsy, damn, on the friend - the communications are still very much wrecked, so here's hoping things are okay.

Weighing in 25 years later on the daycare issue, I got lucky. Nannies - the kind who have a child of their own and a small income and a little house with a garden and want to stay home and supplement their income at the same time - were apparently common in London in early 1980. When I placed the ad, I got three responses in the first two days, and all of them would have been suitable. Anita won because a) she lived a quarter mile away from us at the foot of Muswell Hill, b) she had a splendid garden and a sheepdog, c) she had a seven year old daughter who thought Joanna was her own child and adored her on sight, and d) Joanna took one look at Anita and held her arms out. It was a lifesaver.

When I moved stateside, I asked for recs at her pediatrician's office, and got a shortlist of daycare places. About 80% were either full or too pricey, but we found a good one and she was there for nearly three years.

Nora, I missed any semblance of anything that looked like a pity party.

And in memememe news? My makeover man, Mr. Evangelista, missed his plane this morning, and will be taking a later one, and can I go to Cozza (the hair salon) on my own today, and let the English bloke called Graham check out my hair, thanks?

My makeover man, Mr. Evangelista

Never in my life has anyone of my acquaintance made a statement that's filled me with such giddy delight. Mr. Evangelista. Hee.

I know, it's very odd.

It occurred to me the other day that you won't have to gvie up Wtch and Posts when you move to st. Louis because you'll be in the Central Time Zone.

True. I'm glad that relocation will only screw up my internet friendships for a few weeks at most.

lisah, I'm in a cube farm, so I'll have to check out noisy website at home.

But I spent several years watching their newscasts for a press clipping agency, and I can still pronounce Cajun words properly. For a while there I could discuss Louisiana politics like a near-native. Ah, Edwin Edwards.

This is amusing me so much, I can't even tell you. Our current governor is not nearly as, ahem, colorful.

Never in my life has anyone of my acquaintance made a statement that's filled me with such giddy delight. Mr. Evangelista. Hee.

I like my daughter's reaction to the makeover approval news. "David was supposed to tell me first that he'd got you approved! The freak!"

She's a chip off the maternal block - unfazed by celebrity, unless it's a Beatle.

Although I still don't know how I still cool, calm and collected around Michael Chabon.

Betsy, BTW, Sunday night? I have been strictly forbidden from cooking, since Nic thinks it will add to my stress. I argued, and we have agreed that a big pot of pasta should be ok, so I'll throw one together for the pre-makeover pajama party.

Let me think of something to bring and get back to you.

We can always send out for pizza, or Chinese. Nice thing about San Francisco...

Our current governor is not nearly as, ahem, colorful.

That's almost a pity. Do you remember the trip to France he sold tickets for to pay off his campaign debt?

Heh. That's my favorite "our politics are not your politics" story, Connie.

-t, much pass-ma to you for your exam. I know the stress of waiting for pass lists.