It's Sunday. Not morning. Maybe noonish. The clocks went ahead and it screwed us all up today.

I am spending the weekend--the long weekend-- at the Ta Spa. That's to say, I am the spoiled guest of my dear friend, Tara who happens to live my total urban dream life: radio show producer, fab condo in the hip Roslindale, member at a health club where there is a bowl of sliced cucumbers in ice when you step into the steam room area after your work out-- fresh orchids along the row of mirrors where they have a full range of toiletries, lotions and potions and blowdryers to beautify before you step back into the world. I kid you not.

So, we were supposed to do a ballet class this morning, but got a bit screwed up due to the aforementioned time shift and the wild drinking, smoking, dancing (in lingerie, no less) of last night. So, instead, we are here in Ta's office while she makes an interview call to some guy in Denmark for her Monday show. She has no internet at her condo so I wanted to jump in here to say-- photos are coming.

I can't say if these photos will be at all salvagable since they are on my digital cam-- but I tried to capture all we have been doing since I got down here on Friday.

I can hear her winding up the interview, so I'll sign off here-- we are headed down Newbury Street. I think I'm going to take in the Gaughin exhibit at the MFA, but not sure if Ta will join me on that. Also, I've got to squeeze in a couple more movies (saw Eternal Sunshine yesterday--will dish on it in o-pine when I get back to my computer). Very much want to catch the Triplets of Belleville before it's gone. Also, maybe Good-bye Lenin-- we'll see. Gotta stay open to serendipity.

It is rainy, gray and cold here in Boston today. My hair is still wet from my shower which only compounds my sense of rawness. But it is all good. It is all so good. Last night we had dinner at Aquitaine. I had mussels in cream sauce with tarragon that was so heavenly it took all my restraint not to ask the waitress to put the remining sauce in a doggy bag for me. If they had given me a straw I swear I would have sucked the bowl dry. And that was just my appetizer . . .

Anyway-- a much better blow by blow to come. That's for any lost-in-the-hinterland souls like me who are craving a city fix. For the rest of you who take all this stuff for granted, feel free to cast your glance of pity upon my pathetic ramblings. I'm so happy, j'en ai la plus grande indifference.

A tres bientot.

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