t's been six months and several reality television shows since we last spoke. Boy, a lot has happened. For one, I got a haircut. It's been described as "cute" and "short." It's very, umm, business casual. It requires blowdrying and mad, vigorous use of a round brush. This kind of pisses me off.

What else? Here's a brief rundown of highlights from the last six months.

Weddings
I am ready to declare 2003 "The Year of Weddings." Any protests? I thought not. This summer, I flew to North Carolina - twice! - for two weddings, both of which were fabulous and worth every bounced check. The nice thing is that everyone's wedding is unique, like a snowflake or a venereal disease.

Movies, Sushi
Last weekend, I saw "Lost in Translation." It's a lovely film, atmospheric and subtle. But what really caught my attention was the scene in which Bill Murray tells his wife in LA, "I think I'm going to eat sushi everyday." (I'm paraphrasing.) This idea has really lingered. Why didn't I think of that?

Lessons in Reupholstery
About a month ago, my boyfriend and I embarked on a radical home renovation project. My task: two nice armchairs whose fabric had been destroyed by a previous owner.
"I can reupholster that," I told my boyfriend.
"You can?"
"Absolutely."
In an era of Martha Stewart and Trading Spaces, everyone considers himself a home renovator. But my ability dates back before Bob Villa, when I redid my room every year in a different dynamic color combo - red and white, yellow and red, pink and black. I was DIY before DIY was cool. I jump at the chance to paint a friend's house, and unless I accidentally leave out the paint when the dog runs through the house (sorry Kate!), I do a pretty damn good job. Back when I was involved in college theatre, I recovered an entire sofa in vinyl, with only a needle and thread and a glue gun.
"That chair looks hard," my boyfriend said.
"That chair? It's a cinch."
We went to the fabric store and bought cheap fabric (first mistake). For the next 24 hours, I was a tornado of scissors and staples and swathes of fabric. It was going gangbusters. But what I hadn't really anticipated was the arm of the chair, so plain and curved and unforgiving. Where to hide all this extra fabric? What I did is hard to explain. I kind of folded the fabric, wrapped it around, and sewed it up the side. Now the armchair looks like it's wearing a doti, covered in stitches.
The next day, my boyfriend asked, "Would it hurt you feelings if I got those reupholstered professionally?"
Now, I am a sensitive person, who takes personal offense at pretty much everything. But this one? "No way," I said. End of that mess.

The Rest
Many wonderful, sentimental events of a personal nature. Going to New York, seeing friends, meeting new ones, reconnecting with people from the past, blah-de-bloo. You know how it goes. So much goes on in a life in six months. Where to begin?