I’m much better now. Finals are over, and life is calmer than it was. Kate and I went to Jonathan Stern and Francine Stern (nee: Millman)’s wedding on Saturday at the Americas Society on Park Avenue, and it was wonderful. I got to be an usher and wear a tux — Francine had decreed that the ushers should wear vests, not cummerbunds, and I discovered that the vest is God’s gift to those who don’t have 32-inch waistlines. Hurrah! Kate and I danced a lot, walked up and down marble carpeted staircases arm in arm, et cetera. Then we came home to West Chester, and I mowed the lawn, so all in all I’m feeling like I’ve got the best of both worlds, like some sort of groovy philosopher king. Or like the 13-year-old who isn’t used to shaving yet; Mike the neighbor tells me that the joy of mowing the lawn gets old fast. I dunno about that, though; I can always experiment with making MLB-style outfield stripes.

Really good news! Kate has her own Blog! She told me she got tired of chastising me gently when I take a normal, everyday event, add pirates, and turn it into Giant Caricature Story, especially when she’s one of the Giant Caricatures, so now she has a forum to say that no, in fact the guy behind the counter of Holland and Holland did not look like a Thuggeee assassin in a James Bond movie, and no, he did not finger a carved bone-white poison dart blowgun in his vest pocket while we looked at the chukka boots. Actually, she wouldn’t say that, because those were, in fact, her comments upon our discovery of the seven-storey handlebar-mustache, gum-boot, and safari-suit emporium on 57th street.

Deep breath. So, without further ado, here’s Kate’s Blog.