I mean, who doesn't love vintage Carly Simon?
My friend Chris, a reader of this blog, and actually a role model to me, gave me the single best advice I've ever received. We were at a baby shower, surrounded by pink balloons and pink champagne and crab canapes and quiche and all kinds of pretty packages tied up in grosgrain ribbon in pastel shades, and we sat together as the adorable mother-to-be with her little round belly clad in a black dress opened presents, and she turned to me, as only she can, in her straightforward Minnesota-meets-Mrs Robinson way, flipping back her impossibly lustrous blonde hair away from her face and said "Honey, this is what you need to do."
Now if I tell you what that advice is, it will jinx it, but watch this space a month from now.
Isn't it heaven to know that summer is in the air? I've come home from a sweet mother's day dinner with a huge bunch of lilacs, a bushel of it even, and it's in a vase in my kitchen. And all is well. And all is calm because the wind has died down as has everything else. Ahead is sleep and a brand new day.