in the past week I have read two galley's of mystery type book that take place in Portland. I find that strange. One is by John Connolly which is based entirely in Portland and the other by William Martin which takes place in different parts of New England but he spends a good amount of time in the Old Port (in a fictionious antiquarian bookstore). in the John Connolly book the character is friends with Portlander June Fitzpatrick and was hiding out at one point behind Joe's smoke shop. So bizarre... Is there no escape from this city (or "a city in name only" as stated by one of these book)? When are we getting out of here? I also think it's odd that on one hand I complain about how small this place feels and then on the other I am purposely reading these book because of their relationship to Portland.


in other earth shattering news:

- Chris's has had hte same cold for 3 weeks. Now Aidan & I feel sick. hack hack hack
- if things work out I will see Karin, Emmy, Deb & Stephanie on Saturday night.
- Emmy leaves for Italy soon.
- Max's blue bass is on it's way to the shop for some minor repairs
- G had a horrible day last week. I think he is still feeling bad
- Joelle, Sammy and Z are coming on Friday (unless we need to quarantine the house)
- Aaron has turned this week into the week of many play dates
- Mika and Henry are bored of winter