As the morose tone of the last couple of posts has probably indicated, I’m in an anti-social phase. I had a dear friend’s baby shower to go to today which I was dreading a bit; I don’t fit in very well at all-female events. Anyway, it was just fine; turns out half the people there were hockey fans and we had the TV on watching the Canadians whup them American asses but good in the Olympic men’s hockey final while she opened her gifts. We even sang the national anthem and got all choked up when the flags were raised. I got a terrific photo (on someone else’s camera, alas) of the expecting mother opening a sweet card, surrounded by cheering women with their arms flung up into the air, half out of their seats.

My husband did the Trading Spaces test; he’s Genevieve. This surprises me not at all. Go run barefoot in a field, darling.