We're very pleased to announce the addition of two new contributing writers: Jessica Francis Kane, whose gardening column here at TMN, Notes from the Lawn, is a constant source of distress for those of us who have been branded as plant murderers. You know who we are--you can tell by the pile of empty pots at the back of the garage.

Also, Jonathan Bell, Londoner and co-editor of the very wonderful things magazine, has, after 18 full months of contract negotiation, agreed to join up with TMN. Go read his Letters from London, but do it quick because he's only renting them to us, and with the exchange rate as it is we have no clue what we're paying.


An Employment Opportunity

The Morning News is currently seeking a freelance ad sales rep or network to manage ad inquiries and promote sales. Qualified candidates will have working experience in online ad sales and should send their résumés to:



The right candidate will earn a generous commission on sales.


An Unrelated Observation

When I look at my watch to check the time and then someone asks me the time, I always have to check my watch again. Many people do this--we may all do it, who knows--but I believe I have an explanation for why we have to check the watch that second time: The first time, we aren't really finding out what time it is, we're only finding out how much (or how little) time we have before it's time to do something we've planned to do.

Alternately, I'm reminded of a couple of occasions I checked my watch when I was much younger and my dad asked me if I had a date or something. This was ridiculous because he would never let a 10-year-old go on a date and my mother would've killed him if he tried. Still, it embarrassed me, and so one time I said, Yeah, I have a date. And he asked who with. And this went back and forth a while before I realized I was giving my dad a variation of the "oh, just this girl I met at summer camp in Canada" routine and also realized that there was no way he was buying it, since he would've known had I gone away to camp. This left me doubly embarrassed, and I went back to eating my enchiladas in peace.


Another Unrelated Observation

This morning I was riding the F train into Manhattan, when at the first stop in a man boarded my car. What I noticed immediately:
--The large bleach stain down the front of his golf shirt.
--The blue pen ink, apparently leaked through on the front pocket of his khaki shorts.
--The spatters of white paint across his black tennis shoes.
--His auburn hair, dyed with absolute precision.