If ever there was a wisp of doubt in anyone about my moods being directly linked to the weather, put it to rest. It�s a ridiculously unbelievably gorgeous morning and I am full up to the brim with good will. I want it to be this day forever. I could rhapsodize forever about this. Don�t worry, though.

Met with JH down at my new teaching establishment yesterday. He offered the teaching gig and I accepted. I will be getting paid less than half what I got paid to teach here. Plus I have to drive 30 miles to this new teaching place. That�s no good. But everyone seems terribly nice and helpful which shall be a new experience. Here, everyone tries to thwart you and then the secretaries in the English Department yell at you if you ever ask a single question. At least they yell at me. I hate them.

JH asked me if I knew Claribel. Everyone I know in this town knows Claribel. She�s one of those crucial people on the who do we know in common chain. She�s like Kevin Bacon.

Even more critical on the chain: everyone I�ve ever met knows Frances. You probably do too. I do believe she�s the center of the universe. For instance, I have established that every single person I work with has some connection with her. One woman�s husband was her drama teacher in high school. Frances played with another woman�s kids when she was little. I could go on. It�s ridiculous. She�s so famous. She even knows the evil and dread Deen. She even knows me.

My pops is en route to my house as we speak.

What else what else? Shawn and I made up many songs yesterday. The best one was about Basho. We sing it to the tune of �Safety Dance� which, weirdly, is Shawn�s favorite song. He walks around singing it all the livelong day. He also walks around saying �mini me, you complete me� because he�s such an Austin Powers loving boy. I�m doing my best to discourage this. To no avail. Luckily. Since he has been here Shawn has mowed my grass, trimmed my hedges, made me dinner 3 times, made me lunch nearly every day, vacuumed my whole house, helped me not spend money impulsively, played with my dog while I�m at work, kept me from staring blankly for hours and hours at the damnedable computer, and generally speaking, made himself completely indispensable. I have not asked him to do any of these things, mind you. Whatever shall I do when he leaves? Take up smoking like a maniac again, I imagine. And drinking too. I am near to vice-less with him around.

This weather makes me want to write. This weather makes me believe that I�m in love. This weather makes me forget that I can�t whistle. I have to go now. I need to practice holding my breath. Ciao pretties.