I know, I know. I have been a REAL lazygirl about writing on this thing. But it was a funky winter. Lots of 'what is the meaning of life' angst. At my age it is unseemly. As Roseanne Cash wisely said once on NPR "After the age of 25, it is inappropriate to blame your parents for your problems". I feel the same way about the existential angst thing. But I just can't shake it.So my friends from art school came over last night and we had a great time. Our friend Jillian is getting married to her beau who happens to own a company that makes portfolios. We all warmly refer to him as the metal binder guy even though we, of course, know his proper name. So we toasted Jillian and wished for a happy future for her. She told her proposal story, which was sweet. So did Stephanie. Then we had to pry Leslie's out of her and of course it was in my opinion the best one. Her husband arranged a trip for them and PACKED FOR HER. Not only did he pack for her but he bought her ALL NEW CLOTHES. I would have fainted. And they say romance is dead.