Today, I went to a Ralph's supermarket. Joan Didion has also been to a Ralph's supermarket, as documented in her Los Angeles Notebook. Unlike Joan Didion, I was not wearing a bikini at the time, and hence did not incur the wrath of a portly matron wearing a muu-muu, exclaiming "What a thing to wear to Ralph's!" and hitting my shopping cart with hers.

Although the Santa Ana winds are blowing today, it was not 3:00, nor a hot, smoggy Sunday, when I visited Ralph's, so I am not able to form any comparisons between my excursion and a sweltering, incense-scented religious experience, but it was powerful, nonetheless. As I said, no portly matrons assaulted me, but I did perceive a look of disapproval on the cashier's face when I revealed that I did not possess a "club card."

The Ralph's Ms. Didion visited is in Los Angeles, mine in Ventura. I could use Yahoo Maps to research the number of miles separating the two stores--it isn't too many--but I am not permitted to use the Internet frivolously at my job. Ms. Didion's last desk job was probably many years ago, before the Internet was invented, but most likely, she would have experienced a similar restriction.

I picture us as sisters across time: two young girls, serious in a way that manifests as great beauty, sitting at our respective desks, not being permitted to use the Internet.

Jane Goodall

I am five years old and standing with my parents in the backyard of our house in Lexington, Massachusetts. My parents are engaged in casual conversation with a neighbor , who has brought along a pet spider monkey. I am intrigued by the animal, but apprehensive and startled by his agile leaping.

Inquisitive and gentle, the monkey jumps on me and climbs up my striped shirt to perch on my shoulder. To this day, I look back on that moment, and wonder: What ever happened to that shirt? If I looked in my mother's attic, would I find it, folded neatly among cherished mementos of my childhood? Probably, it's in a box, under a stack of magazines. I think of a Vanity Fair article I read a few years ago, which quoted Jane Goodall as saying, "I can't die--there's too much work to do," and think: How true. If I'm ever going to find that shirt, I'd better start looking soon.

Smedindy

Do you know Smedindy? He is a writer as well, although this week he is out of town and has assigned me today to write an entry for him, which I have done. In this way are we similar. It is likely that, once he has read the entry I posted, I will not be invited back. In this way are we different.