November 27. Sunday Night.

Hi Journey.

Today was a day I couldn't create even one ‘aha' idea to save my soul. Maybe putting so much into Mrs. McB's pitch a couple weeks back sapped me; maybe it's the tides or the phase of the moon. I'm sure Casey's astronomer pal would call me superstitious. All I know is that today I can't align anybody's house right, let alone my own.

Hope all is OK with them. She emailed and said they definitely are moving, but was sketchy on detail. Said she'd clue me in a bit more later this week.

Let me tell you about Dakota.

Dakota knows my quirks quite well. Four years as my roommate at Chapin House and believe me, Journey, Dakota knows. She's living in New York, now. Analyst. Did a stint in DC for a year before that. Two years in Boston after we graduated Smith. Her folks are in St. Louis now, but during her early years they lived in Chicago.

Sorry, wrote that wrong, Journey. More accurate to say her people live in St. Louis.

So of course, she shows up from St. Louis late Friday with a full pound of Jamaican Blue Mountain poking out the top of the Kate Spade backpack she had casually strung over her left shoulder.

Only the finest for Dakota.

I picked her up at the airport and just had to show off my shop. She immediately declares it virgin ground and wants to know if I've christened it yet. So I told her we've hosted an open house or two, plus our annual Tea Times when we invite each customer in for a one-on-one review of their home and serve a glass of wine if they wish. Sometimes I tote in a six-pack for the girls on a Friday afternoon but no, we've had no official burst-the-bottle-against-the ship christening.

We were sitting at the 6-chair conference table in Tethered Helium. Dakota glided her hand across the polished cherry top of the table.

“No, Plains. Christening is the wrong word. I should have asked if you have inititiated this shop. You know, the way we initiated our cars each semester freshman year. Remember?”

Journey, there are facts about my Smith days I'd rather blot out. You do things at 19 that make you wince at 27. There are a few rogue actions from those days that only Dakota knows. The car initiation each semester was one of them. And it was only freshman year, I got smart after that. Scared and smart. And I for sure never shared with Carm; might as well have fired off an email to Mom if I had.

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