"Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That's why it's a comfort to go hand in hand." -Emily Kimbrough

Last night, I went hand in hand with dear friend Annie to a couple of Westside parties. She treated me, in slow recovery from my killer three-strikes week, to a fabulous dinner at Hal's on Abbot Kinney in Venice. We split the grilled baby artichokes with garlic aioli, a luscious burger with grilled onions (my personal symbolic choice), a perfectly spiced Virgin Mary with one slice of lime and three olives, and a couple of decadent bites of her Extremely Evil ice cream sundae. At the last party, we danced to the very cute DJ Josh's 80's mix with mad abandon -- the only abandonment I am willing to accept. The ribs I bruised in the move to the loft last weekend suffered, but I didn't care.

Annie's generous and understanding ear were healing balm for a soul in tatters. As are the loving, supportive words and actions exhibited by all of my close friends this past week and change. This past week OF change.

And now I sit at my new favorite Downtown coffee house, a few blocks down from SciArc, tapping into their free Internet access, writing al fresco with Lulu Leh, the Best Dog Ever Made, feeling the correlation between the shifts in season and in life...feeling fearless and protected, in surrender to a higher, finer wisdom.

I promised I'd sing my own praises after unduly, unreasonably, irrationally trashing myself a few days ago. Here: Smart, funny, talented, pretty, sexy. A little insane, completely open and kind-hearted.

And, yes...still sober.