Last year, I fantasized a "greener" Christmas.
In between, I sought advice to guide me through life as a woman, turned to chubby food critics when seeking the greasiest greasy spoons, questioned what questions to ask before marriage, and presumptuously struggled to "help" people out of poverty.
Who was Roberto Clemente? What made John Adams tick? The best digital camera in 2008? The secrets of effective teams?
(I know!)
And I know how to teach sixth graders about fractions.
If you're adopting a rescued dog or deciphering a polysyllabic medical term, let me know. If you need a half-filled notebook or any of Hart Crane's poems, just ask.
Marion Nestle told me what to eat; Julia Child, about France.
John Irving made me cry, and then cry again. And again.
Decorating your first apartment? It doesn't have to cost a fortune. Have a question about Fermat's Enigma? Too bad -- I haven't cracked that volume.
Give me a couple of days.
In the meantime, if you want to fall in love, find your own Lorca.
