Bettered.

It was a drear night, followed by a drear morning and an early afternoon that threatened to become dire indeed. But then, lo and behold, some figures who didn't care about King's College's requests that they stay off the grass. And things looked up from there.

Some days I don't know how to name my own loneliness, and that's when things get tough, because I don't know how to ask to have it lifted. What I do know: neither jealousy nor envy is a particularly generous response to anything. Gratitude and hope, on the other hand, are. Consider me reoriented. Sometimes I picture myself as a five-and-a-half-foot-tall Weeble: I wobble, but I don't fall down.

By the end of the day, I'd bought my first above-the-knee dress in more years than I can recall. I'm not sure whether it qualifies as a mini-dress. I do know that it qualifies as awesome.

(Can I get a hell yeah about Weebles, by the way? Did anyone else have the Tub Sub? or the Romper Room playground set? I have a very clear memory of receiving the playground set and having to put it away for awhile for some reason--I'm guessing that it was probably a gift to my brother when he was a baby, too young to be putting Weebles down slides or in merry-go-rounds. But I remember when we got it out and played with it in the blue living room in the old house in Buffalo. Damn, those Weebles were something else. They never did fall over.)