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Here are Hannah and Sam, in their school uniforms, outside our house. The house is a bungalow, built between the wars, which has been extended to the rear. It is a very long house, three large bedrooms, two bathrooms, a study, kitchen and lounge, and a large rear verandah which will be great for barbecuing in the summer. We are about as far from the center of Melbourne as Park Slope is from downtown Manhattan, and Rachel gets to work by train in about 30 minutes. The train station is at the end of our street. Compared to Brooklyn, the neighborhood is incredibly quiet - we have yet to even see any of our neighbors. All of our things arrived from Brooklyn last Friday, so the house is a bit of a mess at the moment with books and bits and pieces everywhere.

Last Tuesday morning my oldest friend, Larelle, died at the age of 44. We met when my family moved in next door to hers when she and I were both 12. She had had kidney disease since she was 15, been on dialysis for most of the last 27 years, had three failed kidney transplants, two cardiac operations that she had not been expected to survive, and, finally, her liver stopped functioning. She was also the most delightful person anyone could meet and you all would have loved her if you had met her. We investigated whether she would be able to go to New York last year, but she needed dialysis three times a week and the cost of dialysis for visitors to America was just too high. She was witty, intelligent, loving, stylish, graceful, and brave beyond any measure. Although chronically ill for most of her life, she never allowed her illness to define her, and her good humor in the face of setbacks was extraordinary. She had two degrees, edited a magazine, and won gold medals for Australia at the World Transplant Games. And she could dance. Her partner of 17 years, Steve, is an outstanding bloke. I gave a eulogy at her memorial service on Monday.