And, you know, cheesecake is allowed. (Actually, people could bring anything -- there were some salads, too. And obviously crackers and bread. But mostly cheese. And probably 90% of the guests dressed fancy. I wore my tiara!)

I am slightly bitter, slightly, that this happens after racing and I had a political breakup. I heard the screaming from the bar downstairs from my massage therapist, and hoped it was that.

Well, Liese, your song made me cry, which I think is a definite measure of success. Other than that, I liked the harmonies (especially in the "ah ah" part near the end) and thought some of the imagery was very powerful. Kintsugi and wabi sabi are two of my favorite concepts; great idea for a song.

Liese, that's an artwork to be very happy with. Gonna listen a few more times when not interrupted to yell GIT DOWN LOKIDAMNIT.

I have vacuumed and mopped the whole damned house and now the damn floors will not dry. I really need to triage the coffee table but I'm about worn out and need to walk Loki before I turn him into slippers.

That is delightful, Anne!

I'm gonna have to ask around, see who in my local acquaintance likes cheese and (optional) dressing up. There must be some.

So I take Loki out for a walk. He immediately goes jungle cat and I'm chasing him up and down the block, hissing and growling. Meanwhile, Pumpkin is sitting in my open bedroom window, crying like she's being tortured. It's a nice night, people are out.

"Yo, is that yours too?" ( pointing at window) Um, yeah."You should let her play too." She climbs trees."So does that one." GODDAMNIT LOKI.

(He only gets about 3' up, but damn, he's being impossible tonight.)

Laura Hillenbrand's comment on the Belmont:

• *********

Be thankful for defeat. Be thankful for failure. Be thankful for frustration, for heartbreak, for foolish mistakes, for frailty, for hard luck, for doubt, for longing. These are the things that gauge the robustness of the challenges we choose, that sound the depths of our bravery and fortitude, that measure our worth. Only those intimate with the pain of loss feel in full the sweet euphoria of triumph. I am grateful that I waited thirty-seven years, since I was a little girl, for this day. I am grateful for all the brave horses who tried and failed and scattered our hopes. When American Pharoah bent his exquisitely beautiful body into the homestretch at Belmont today, scorching fractions faster and faster as his jockey sat taut-armed on his back and 90,000 fans shouted him home, it was those horses, and those thirty-seven years, that made his staggering, unbelievable accomplishment meaningful. They were the leavening of this overwhelming joy, as essential to it as this magnificent creature. Thank you to the starcrossed Spectacular Bid, to the crying jockey Chris Antley, to the gallant little Smarty Jones, to all the others. American Pharoah, welcome to greatness.

Oh, that's good. Thanks for posting that, David.

God, Smarty Jones. I wept when he lost the Belmont. He was so good. It was just too far.

Best horse name ever. DH sometimes still calls me Smarty Jones.

I would write down my To Do List for tomorrow, but a cat is sleeping on the blanks, so I guess I will just go to bed.