I got on the train and the car was quiet. Very quiet. As we curled around Queensboro Plaza and got that great east side view of the city you could still see black and gray smoke trailing from the south end of Manhattan, as if the place had sprung a leak or caught fire. The train trundled past and we all moved to the window to watch until the bend on the tracks curved us out of the way. Then we went back to our seats and avoided each others’ eyes.

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I’m having a weird moment: There’s very little TV on my DVR right now. The net I’m throwing out and trawling just isn’t catching anything worth watching, and I’m so grateful when it does that when The Blacklist returned to my lineup Thursday night (don’t judge me, there’s nothing wrong about this completely nonsensical wish fulfillment show) I was thrilled.

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We’ve gotten away from it all to end the year, and we’ve brought the dog. Birdie came to us in April from — as we were told — a foster rescue situation with an elderly couple in Tennessee. The couple, who reportedly live in a rural area, were ailing and could no longer take care…

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