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January 6, 2003
This morning, a letter to the local advice columnist, whose blunt-but-gentle wisdom I appreciate, reminded me of the remarkable ordinariness of the experience I have been mining for material lately. How sweetly humbling that the stuff of poetry is often no more than just another “you thought it would last forever, he didn’t, you’ll get over it honey” story. In the end, it’s the writing that counts, not the inspiration. On the next page, yet another article about the benefits of laughter makes me smugsmile. I've known that for ages!

The latte was really good, too, with hand-grated dark chocolate sprinkles.