Well, shit.

Today ... today was not a good day. Thankfully I got to have some quality knitting time with the Great Dane and Fryolator to take my mind of my continuing isolating awkwardness at work. Then I got home and read, on goddamn Gawker of all places, that Smith aluma Molly Ivins died. I have a great story about the time I got to meet Molly Ivins, but I think I'm too depressed to recount it now. Here's a photo that was taken later the same day I had tea with Molly Ivins. She worked my complaint about brussel sprouts into her speech. It was awesome. She was a brilliant wit, a sharp writer and a compassionate observer. Shit damn. She graciously answered my question about whether the character of Libby Holden in Joe Klein's Primary Colors was based on her. Not only did I love Ivins' style and sorytelling, I related to her because I think that she felt maybe even more out of place at Smith College than I did. Rest in peace, Molly. I'm sure she's giving 'em hell in heaven now.

Update: Dahlia Lithwick over at Slate.com wrote an Obit for Molly called "What I learned from Molly Ivins" that is well worth reading.