Ten Years Ago
We were living in a rented casita in Corralejo, a dusty village located in the countryside outside of San Miguel. Our little house had a cactus fence around it and brick boveda domed ceilings. Annalena was three and attending a Mexican Montessori preschool. My father had just recently passed away. I spent a lot of time staring at the mountains and listening to Junior Walker.
Ten Months Ago
Last August I was in the homestretch of the BTF season. I enjoyed seeing Shaw's Mrs. Warren's Profession.
Ten Days Ago
I was wrangling actor bios for the program.
Ten Minutes Ago
I was writing my mother an e-mail about yesterday's lovely lunch with a new friend at Blue Ribbon Sushi
Ten Minutes from Now
I will eat some low-fat dulce de leche Häagen-Dazs.
Ten Hours from Now
I'll be at the office.
Ten Days from Now
I will be researching an article about breathing rituals. I will also likely be stressed out of my mind at work.
Ten Months from Now
I hope I'll be writing a new book.
I do have long-term wishes, but feel too superstitious to share them here.