It's April!  Specifically, it's April 2nd and I think we can all agree that April 1st would have been a more --ta da!-- fresh start sort of day to return, but seeing as how March came and went without comment, I think it's best that we just take what we can get.  What I am supposed to be doing right now is going to the farmers' market (this sounds like something from ye olden times wherein I would have to hitch the horse to the wagon and go allllll the way into market square or, at the very least, get the old ford pick up humming and on the road, but it is modern times and I live in San Francisco, which means that "going to the farmers' market" necessitates nothing more than putting on some real pants, stuffing their pockets with about $300 in cash, and walking two blocks down my own street). And yet.  And yet this seems instead like a great time to do something I've completely ignored for a month and a half.  Mind you, I have no food in the house.  Breakfast is comprised of a pot of tea and a handful of walnuts.  The other option was tea and a can of diced tomatoes. For about a week I've been having tea and chocolate for dinner. Why do I so loathe grocery shopping of any kind?  Discuss.

If not motivational on the grocery front (and nothing is), April is otherwise inspiring. April itself is a musical little word and it brings with it daffodils and hyacinth and real spring. What's even more exciting, if you clamber up to the top of the hill of April (it's not steep; even I can do it), summer is clearly visible on the horizon and we begin to believe that the school year, like all school years, will eventually come to an end. In February, they tell us it's true, but we don't really believe it.

This particular April is among the most wished-for Aprils of all. It marks the end of a hideous year for my friend who has had to spend it self-administering shots of cancer-killing poison, which, unsurprisingly killed other things along the way. Things like joy and concentration and more than three consecutive days without a fever. It has, in a word, sucked. But yesterday marked the last shot of a whole year of shots. The last shot!  It is very likely that you don't know my friend, but I invite you to join me in a small celebratory, April-welcoming, life-affirming jig anyway.  It'll do you good.

I have other things to tell you: a litany of small maladies coupled with my reluctance to engage with my new health insurance; thoughts on theatre for which you may have no personal context whatsoever; exciting developments on the neighbor front; possibly some kind of update on having bought food and thus fended off starvation (but no promises).  I'll tell you these things another day.  No, I will.  I'm not even lying this time.