Here comes the sun

After an extended hiatus, here is last week at a glance (a la Jonathan Goldstein).

Tuesday. It is Inauguration Day and I feel celebratory. There is also excitement over Mrs. Obama's outfit. Will she go haute and show up in Narciso Rodriguez again? Or will she consider our bleak economic landscape and opt for something modest, like the $99 black-and-white Donna Ricco dress she wore on "The View" last summer? The anticipation is overwhelming.

Michelle Obama's lemongrass sheath dress and overcoat (from designer Isabel Toledo) was as bright as the crisp Winter day in Washington and as optimistic as her husband's presidential campaign. She was glowing, sophisticated, stylish. Overall, she was a smashing hit.

Oh yeah, and her hubby's speech was pretty kick-ass.

Wednesday. Dave and I are at his parents' farmhouse in the country. We are each wearing three layers of winter clothing to shield us from the frigid winds that whip across the open filed behind his house. We are cross-country skiing, something I haven't done since grade eleven gym class. I like gliding across the snow and pumping my arms to make the poles push me along. I like the fresh air and the Christmas tree farm at the back of the property. It reminds us of the forest that Buddy the Elf travels through on his way from the North Pole to NYC. We stop for photo opps and I'm sure this will not be the last time I'm on skis this winter.

After an hour of looping around the property, we are sufficiently spent and ready for lunch. The sun bursts through the gray clouds as we head in.

Thursday. I blow out 27 candles and resist eating cake for breakfast. I spend most of the day working at the Writing Centre and then meet up with friends and family members for beer and spicy wings in the evening. For some reason, I get to thinking about what I want to do with my life, professionally speaking.

Then I remember that, as an imaginative 12-year-old, my favourite game was to dress up as Julia Roberts from the movie "I Love Trouble," in which she was a reporter and in love with Nick Nolte. I had a vintage purse that I bought at our church's Rummage Sale that I slung over my left shoulder; I kept my pen and notepad in the pocket of my (mom's) trench coat for easy access. I chased the thrilling stories that unraveled in my house and the surrounding area and conducted intense, often frustrating, interviews with people that didn't actually exist. I always reported breaking stories into the large mirror that hung in our front hallway - a poor stand-in for a camera man - with a smile.

I order another pint and decide that I'll try to land a gig as an actress in a movie about a young reporter on the brink of breaking a mega story who tries to convince herself that she's not in love with her boss, a middle-aged curmudgeon with a salt-and-pepper toupe and a razor sharp intellect. And this character, she will only wear the colour lemongrass to reflect her optimism and sunny disposition.