A Tree Blows [Over] in Brooklyn

Happy Roddy McDowall's Birthday, anyone who knows me!

I came home yesterday to find the storm I saw from a bus in Harlem on the way from Laguardia was doing this a couple of doors down from my apartment.

It was the best kind of vacation, lovely to go, lovely to be back. But how much of a baby do I feel like to say that socializing is tiring?

I had two migraines on the way home, very unusual given I just had one a few weeks ago at the Guggenheim. When I think back, it was a bad idea to go into the Duty Free shop. They had a sign saying anyone could shop there (turns out they had the booze and ciggies separated, just the purses, chocolate, jewelry, and perfume was open to domestic fliers) so I had to investigate what they were getting for shortbread cookies. So that immersion in perfumeland and the slight scent of the woman next to me on the packed plane on the way home serve as my first definitive links between migraines and perfume. Still no headache with it yet, though, thank goodness.

Here's a pic of Cappy Jim Zimmerman, sailing Todd, Laurie, and me around Minnetonka Tuesday. BTW, I didn't have any walleye Wednesday, but I had fish, so that was five consecutive days of walleye and six of fish.

"What did you do your last day of vacation, Janet?"
"I had a day of beauty."
"Oh, with your mom?"
"No."