A beautiful day out there, after nearly twenty inches of snow fell between midday Sunday and yesterday afternoon. No post yesterday, and nearly no post today. Too much going on. I have a hearing in forty-five minutes, and I'm still sitting here in pajama bottoms. I was up at three a.m. reading emails about typos in drafts I circulated, from clients pounding on the door because they want their *whatever* last week and why is it taking so long? Accounts receivable are starting

"You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming." - Pablo Neruda I missed yesterday's post. Thursdays have become my most difficult point on the calendar--the midday class is among the most challenging, with a couple hundred pages of reading a week. By Thursday my paying work has piled up, as has my homework, to the point that from the moment I roll out of bed I'm hustling to get everything done so we can drive back to Corning after class. It doesn't leave

TS Eliot (1888–1965) Ash Wednesday (first stanza) Because I do not hope to turn again Because I do not hope Because I do not hope to turn Desiring this man's gift and that man's scopeI no longer strive to strive towards such things (Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?) Why should I mourn The vanished power of the usual reign? Because I do not hope to know again The infirm glory of the positive hour Because I do not think Because I know I shall not know The one verit

"An American has not seen the United States until he has seen Mardi-Gras in New Orleans." - Mark Twain A gray, cool Shrove Tuesday in Manhattan. Not getting up to take the photo because I'm in the middle of eleventh-hour trial prep, and my knee is absolutely throbbing nearly four weeks post-surgery. My constant pain and immobility has sort of put a damper on this adventure. Poor P--she has so many things she'd like to see and do, and she's shackled to a guy who can barely wal