Sometimes I miss New York so much I can hardly breathe. I felt this way yesterday when the New York Times arrived and I read that the Met was showing Bonnard paintings. I had come home from church, which was depressing. The word "valiant" is such a headchopper. "I want to go back to New York," I told Tom setting down two dozen reasons why. We talked about it for awhile, even looked at apartments. Then listed reasons why we liked living here. (Our grandkids drop by being the number one reason to stay put). Then decided maybe we should do something different, like live in Vienna for a year. Tom does know how to dream with me. Maybe the possibility of leaving can be enough for now.