You know those rare, special friends who remind you that you are not alone? I am so fortunate to know a handful of these people, whose very presence in this world affirms and reassures me. I spent this afternoon with Sarah (above, at Grace’s second birthday party, pregnant with Oliver, with John and Rosie) and was reminded of her critical importance in this small group. Sarah’s insightful, funny, practical outlook on life as a woman and a parent is as unique as it is refreshing. She’s one of those rare friends with whom I never, ever run out of things to say. I remember one lunch where, already running 45 minutes late because we’d talked and talked, we kept chatting as she was going down the elevator to the garage – we were shouting as she disappeared underground, unwilling to stop talking. There is so much about you, Sarah, that I admire and respect: your profound commitment to both your family and to your individual identity, your passionate pursuit of professional challenge and fulfillment, your relentlessly entertaining and humorous perspective on life’s travails, your candor and honesty about what you find difficult. Of course, a big part of our bond bond is that many of those are the things I find hard too. I remember vividly an email about having given yourself a pedicure while feeding Rosie (as a toddler) breakfast: you were simultaneously applauding yourself and recognizing a certain failure to be “present.” This is a tension I grapple mightily with as well, and I’m glad to share that effort with you.
Oh, what a it is blessing to have women like this in my life – I am so grateful for you, you wonderful, bright, brilliant, complicated women who walk with me. THANK YOU.
I have a new favorite song: Home, by the Foo Fighters. It makes my heart ache thinking about the multiple ways we can define home, of all the places and people that have a claim to such a title.

Sunset over Prout’s Neck, September 8 2007 (at Leonora and Frank’s engagement party).
Been a slow few days. Yesterday I had a great few hours at the end of the day solo – drove out to the new Neiman Marcus, poked around, just enjoyed being alone. An incredible treat. Definitely a highlight of the week.
This morning I ran and it was chilly – fall is definitely here. I was not dressed warmly enough, and I got bad chilblains in the shower when I got home. Was reminded instantly of long cold runs at Exeter. Listened to my usual assorment of easy listening and was really digging a random James Taylor song called “It’s Enough to be On Your Way:”

So the sun shines on this funeral
Just the same as on a birth,
The way it shines on everything
That happens here on Earth.
It rolls across the western sky
And back into the sea
And spends the day’s last rays upon
This fucked-up family, so long old pal.

The last time I saw Alice,
She was leaving Santa Fe
With a bunch of round-eyed Buddhists
In a killer Chevrolet.
Said they turned her out of Texas, yeah,
She burned them down back home,
Now she’s wild with expectation
On the edge of the unknown.

Singing oh, it’s enough to be on your way,
It’s enough just to cover ground,
It’s enough to be moving on.
Home, build it behind your eyes,
Carry it in your heart,
Safe among your own.

Don’t know why I like it so much but I just do. It’s a downright beautiful fall day, full blown sunshine and the crispness that is emblematic of October.
Tonight we are having dinner en famille with all three legs of the stool at the Lavallees. Should be fun – we’re hoping for a good picture of all seven children. SEVEN? My God. Even as I write that I can’t quite believe it. I remember so vividly meeting Elizabeth and Robert on Christina and David’s roofdeck on Mount Vernon Street – we had more margaritas than we could count and laughed all night long. I didn’t know then that we’d be laughing (and drinking) nonstop for the next 6 or 7 years – and hopefully many more.