A skyscraper, downtown, cubicles in front of a big wide window, vodka, guitar, lightning, and five minutes of snow. Across the way was a building where all the lights on all the floors had an orange glow except one. That floor looked like it was in black and white.

And then I was racing for my bus, which chose that night of all the nights, to be 15 minutes late, and I knew they were all still up there, singing and nodding their heads and sipping their drinks. And I was juggling my gym bag and letting the rain fall in my hair.

Now I'm recording what I eat in a journal and trying to figure out exchange points, but I'm not very good at it. I'm pricing food processors and woks, thinking I should stir fry something. It's been about two weeks of daily working out now, and my clothes hang a little different and my arm and leg muscles are tighter, but no one else can see it yet. I need to buy new clothes because my old ones are looking ratty, but I don't want to do it until my shape quits shifting.

I didn't tell you about the floating bridge last Wednesday night. The wind was bad, about 50 mph, as I drove across the floating bridge to get to class. The wind whipped the waves into a frenzy, the crests sprayed off in all directions, the water toppled over the walls onto the road, onto our cars, as we crawled along at 10mph. About 10 minutes after I crossed, the authorities closed the bridge for the rest of the night because a piece broke. It was like driving through a whirlpool since we were so close to the water and the wind and swerving. I was in awe and it was all I could do to keep the car driving straight and my eyes on the road. So pretty.