Wednesday. Wednesday is the iffiest day of the week, sometimes. Last Wednesday was awful, but it was good too, what with George showing up early, and the Egglet's friend wearing shorts, and the Egglet's friend enjoying my teasing him about wearing shorts, and Sam, and Michael, and the rain. Towards the end though, as people continued arriving, there were too many of us, and ending up at Union Pool was a bad idea that went on for far too long. Which is why any of you who may have been at JFK, Terminal A, Gate 1 at eight the next morning may have seen me sleeping in a chair in the corner, its arms cradling me like a bride being carried over the threshold, my head resting on its shoulder.

Tonight has a troubling potential, and there are two locations available for this potential to develop. I will not be going to the second unless one of the boys is there to hold my hand. I will be wearing my favorite skirt, and it looks like thunder is on its way. That adds up to something like invincibility, doesn't it? Still, I want someone holding my hand.