I wrote this in Weetabix's guestbook and then decided to reprint it here: The 24-hour reporting on every channel is wearying. In some ways, I think it is beginning to defeat its purpose because we're gettin jaded and tired of hearing over and over how horrific it is/was. We know it was awful, incomprehensible. But hearing it repeatedly, it begins to almost become a parody of itself. I'm starting to feel like these reporters are just in love with the sound of their own voices. Every conceivable expert has been interviewed and the armchair quarterbacking is in full force. The personal stories are abounding but there are so very many of them. We could spend the next 3 months hearing nothing but personal stories--I was late to work, I was on vacation, I got laid off, I was on a smoke-break, my father was on that plane, my husband, my sister... I feel like I'm sounding tremendously callous or selfish but I start to get jaded when there is too much repetition. Just recently they played a voice mail recorded by a man who was on the 105th floor. I think it's time to slow down and perhaps go to updates during the day instead of the 24-hour coverage. But no one wants to be the first one to pull back. No one wants to appear "unpatriotic" or miss out on the good human interest story. I guess because I'm here, 3000 miles away, I have the luxury to say "enough already," but I can't help how I feel.

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I know I risk being stoned for what I wrote, but I've talked to enough people to know I'm not alone. That being said, I did spend an hour watching the service at the National Cathedral today. I loved the ecumenical nature of the service. It was interesting to see the Clinton family seated next to George and Barbara Bush who were seated next to the President and First Lady and over President Bush's shoulder, you could see Al Gore. Surreal, indeed. The bipartisan, apolitical nature of the seating and the service was heartwarming. This is not a party issue. This is a human issue. Would that we could remember that over the coming weeks and months.

As gripping as the service was, the 5.5 hours of sleep I got last night caught up with me and I nodded off toward the end. In a sort of mostly sleepy haze, I remember hearing that people all over the country were going into firestations and leaving flowers and food. It must have registered into some part of my consciousness or been incorporated into a dream because I know I was asleep when the phone rang, and when I woke up, I realized that I'd been crying in my sleep. Joey has done that before but I never have, at least that I was aware of.

This evening at 7pm, Joey and I took our candle outside and lit it. I noticed that many of my neighbors were sitting at their curbs with the candles lit in front of them so we joined with our next door neighbors and their candles. We ate our pizza and take-out Mexican food while the candles burned. I'm not sure what effect, if any, it had on the children but I enjoyed sitting on the curb for two hours talking with my neighbor. I like her so much. She is a truly good and nice person and I'm so very glad she moved next door. Many groups of neighbors huddled together with their candles and talked the evening away. It felt very cohesive. I liked doing this in concert, knowing that all over the state--nay, country--people were stepping outside and lighting candles and joining with neighbors and friends and strangers in a show of solidarity and of mourning.

A friend from my book group is moving to my town tomorrow. They just signed papers for a new house--their first--but the terrorist attack almost cost them their house as the financing was on then off then on and there was lots of wrangling that went on in order for them to finish the paperwork and move tomorrow. It seems shallow to worry about whether my friend will be able to move tomorrow when there are thousands of people aching from the loss of a loved one but life *does* have to move on and moving into a new house is part of moving on.

On to more banal issues: Joey's hair cut looks absolutely fabulous. It is a chin length bob, slightly longer in front than in back and undercut so it curls ever so slightly under. She has almost-black, thick, shiny, silky hair--the kind you see in the Vidal Sassoon ads--and it looks so healthy and beautiful. Would that I had hair half as thick and luscious as hers!

I've noticed that she is beginning to develop breasts. How can this be? She is only seven years old (eight in 2 weeks). The tiny breast buds don't yet show through clothes, but she is undressed, it is unmistakable. There are two other girls who are 9 years old in our neighborhood who wear bras. Is this common these days? That seems awfully darn young to have to worry about things like that. My friend's barely-10-year-old daughter is starting to grow pubic hair and armpit hair. I can't imagine having to deal with menstruation in 5th grade. I was 13 and my sisters were 14 and 15 before we hit puberty. Maybe it's true that all those hormones being fed to cows are making their way into meat and milk and our daughters. I wonder if this is having the opposite effect on our sons. With all these female hormones, are they entering puberty later? I believe I'll discuss this issue with Joey's wonderful pediatrician next month at her well-child physical. I haven't mentioned it to Joey yet because she seems completely unaware that they have started to grow.

--L