The snow garcon still liveth! I see him standing straight in a bare lawn of greening winter grass; he looks forlorn, yet determined. The day is a 38-er; he should be au-revoiring soon. He's a sight because he wasn't there earlier this week, and now he liveth, and we comment upon his weight loss, and his fluttery scarf, and his scaring the crouching cat who sniffed at his arm sticks. Soon, he'll be off to le maison, his home, his own mere and pere.

My daughter and I were talking last night as we finished a 1000 piece puzzle how it is sad that our two week Europe trip is over. That was in June, this is February. We felt nostalgic or resentful about the new group that's going in June with the fun teachers who plan an amazing trip with a delightful English tour guide named Albert. For both of us, the trip exceeded expectations -- her, for shopping, sights, old friendship -- me, for sights, senses, new friendship. Europe, wow, I'm still reeling with the amazement that I actually went. I always think of the Arc d'Triumph as the heighth of this feeling. We ran up the steps and were struck by the beauty of the Champs Elysses below in the night sky, gleaming. I stared and stared and couldn't get enough. So far from the Ozarks, so far from the cul-de-sac.

Well, the new group will go and will experience the same awe. I will be glad for them, I will try to be glad for them, I will be crying in happiness for them, I will ask for forgiveness ....