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On March 2, 2003 at 4:12 pm, I disappeared. My name is isabella v., but it's not. I'm twentysomething and I am an international fugitive.
Easter Sunday sermon.
I slept through the egg hunt on the first floor, although we did write a few of the traditional (around here anyway) rhyming clues last night over sushi. Hopefully it went well.
And hopefully this really is the start of spring because people are in some need. Ran into L last night in the bodega and he was typical of most people I know in the city. Smiling and trying to be happy, but admitting that this has been the worst winter ever. And I'm not talking about the weather. We can take it, sure, and even worse, it's just that we would rather not. Strong only goes so far.
Early Sunday dinner tonight with the extended NYC family plus some parts of my family who have never interacted. Should be interesting.