The Libertarian party just nominated Bob Barr for its presidential candidate. As late as last week, I checked prices for flights to Denver to see if maybe I'd go on impulse. I'm not kicking myself, but it turned out to be another exciting nomination process (it took six ballots for Barr to eke out a majority over Mary Ruwart), so let's say I'm at least a little wistful. Bill Redpath, the chairman of the committee, looks great, surprisingly. I know him to talk to from his days as Virginia delegate, and when I last saw him, he was waxy and dandruffy and I thought the chairmanship of the party would probably induce an early heart attack. But he looks great, the job must agree with him. Anyway, I like and admire Mary Ruwart and she's been at every convention I've been to since 1998, but I can't say I'm upset because Barr will automatically get more press than she would. And maybe he'll even get some votes, as you can't say there are any other even remotely libertarian candidates in this year's race.

My friend Lorna from Maine is in town this week with her family, and together we walked out on our first Broadway show Thursday, Mary Poppins. I never liked the movie as a kid, I thought the dad was mean and I didn't really know what Mary's deal was, what her powers were other than packing large objects into a carpetbag. Lorna's five year-old daughter conked out as soon as the lights came up at intermission, I leaned over and said, "Everyone in this show's an asshole," to Lorna, and she said she felt bad suggesting we leave, but I was all for it. We woke up the kid, asked how she liked the show, then had a couple glasses of wine back at the hotel and gabbed into the wee hours.

Before that, we took the Staten Island Ferry back and forth so Olivia could see the Statue of Liberty fairly close. She also got a big steaming pile of New York crazy when a woman started screaming at us, "I'm glad to see you believe in adoption." (Lorna's kid was born in China.) She went on at length about the virtues of adoption and asked if Lorna planned to take her "back where she came from", to which Lorna said she didn't know. Olivia just curled into her mom's side, shyly. "You have to learn to just say 'mind your own damn business,'" Crazy said, "when someone like me asks you how it feels to be adopted. It's no one's business." I should have run interference for my visitors, herded her out of Olivia's hearing. Who knows what any five year-old would know about what adoption means or whether her mother would take her back where she was born? (I told her New Yorkers were famous for yelling out their opinions to strangers, then distracted her at the window with the sight of a cruise ship.) Oh, and did I mention that this woman had a hole the size of a quarter right between her eyes? I thought it was down to her skull, but Lorna believes were were looking at pulsing, wrinkled, frontal lobe. I guess that's why I didn't leap into action; I was staring at it like the eye of a cobra. I never saw anything like it.