02.06.02 - 2:33 p.m.

Raviolis for lunch. Reading a script about Press Your Luck. When I walked in this morning, Mike, Evan and Ron were dancing in the conference room. "We're just three guys who like to dance," they said.

And freakin' Whoopi Goldberg is here. I just talked to her. Oh yeah.

It's not a bad day, but I really have nothing new to talk about. I'm wearing my new orange pants. Dan tapes Gilmore Girls for me when I'm at his house on Tuesdays. Good boyfriend!

Bassett and I are going to Florida in May to see the grandparents - this makes Dad happy. Dan, too, is going to Florida, but in March, and to the wrong coast. This is all well and good and he'll be able to write about baseball rather than sitting glumly in the office, but it would have been nice for us to have two vacations together.

But I get to be with Bassie! And we can eat pasta and cutlets (well, I'll eat the cutlets), and swim and maybe go to Epcot? Who knows! Ah, Florida, the land of no potholes. I miss driving the Impala. It was a pretty fun time in retrospect, last March, with the seagulls and the making of grilled cheese every day and going to Celebration and Lake Buena Vista. Not so bad once it's safely tucked away as nostalgia.