Ashcroft. I meant Ashcroft.

Gladiator. I've been thinking ever since I saw the movie Gladiator, about people who have that kind of charisma that inspires and exhilarates. There is an aura around these kind of people that you can almost see, and certainly can feel. Can I get some of that please? People who have it: Tom Peters, my friend Lisa who works for his wife, Leiberman, Oprah. People who don't have it: Bush, Atwater. Did he really think he could sneak that appointment in? I fantasized this morning that Gore would come to the swearing in and claim his right as the winner, but you know what? He doesn't have it either.

Still no names for the cat, although Slinky seems to be sticking with the girl. The boys and I were all home sick yesterday, so we got to watch her slink and slide around, trying to be invisible.
Yesterday I sat in one of the old wooden rockers from the porch up in Orange, and rocked and read by the intensely hot wood stove. I closed my eyes and could almost imagine myself sitting on the porch looking out down the hill and across to the horizon where that one tree pokes up above all the rest. Do I love the chair because of its ability to transport me there, or because it's really quite comfortable? Does it matter?
Before that lovely day, I was on a plane for 16 hours coming from a 48 hour visit to Amsterdam, with a cold. Amsterdam was cold and grey, just like (dare I say it again?) Vermont. I've decided I really don't like to shop, and I don't want to do it again.