Chapter 3

The little notebook was not the standard reporter’s notebook that I carried to work every day stuffed into my messenger bag.  That size notebook would be too bulky to carry into bars and restaurants.  It would draw a lot of attention.  My “little notebook” was smaller, small enough really to fit into any of my handbags…no matter what the size.  Small enough to even tuck into my jeans’ pocket if necessary.

And these days I almost always wore jeans with a white tee shirt.  In the winter I added a blazer or jacket.  Sometimes I threw a scarf or a tie around my neck if I had a meeting (which was rare) or if I felt like being a little dressy or a little “French” or just for the hell of it.

My Vincent Camuto boots with the gold trimmed heels or Chuck Taylor black high-tops completed my outfit no matter what the season was…  I liked life to be simple, mostly.  Not having a lot of choices is nice.   It works for me.

I flipped the notebook open and placed it in front of my half-opened eyes.  I blinked a couple more times and saw that I had only managed to scrawl on two pages and neither page had any of my trademark exclamation marks!

Two pages were hardly worth reading and definitely not worth reading just yet.  I was pretty sure it was just junk.

I had been in a junk mood yesterday.