by Julie Powell
the Two Texans and all their hangers-on;
the six Democrats at my erstwhile government agency—most especially Anita, John, Sharon, and Katie, but also Ben, Peter, Chris, Amy, David, and . . . (Wait. That’s more than six, isn’t it?);
Elizabeth Gilbert, who saved my ass all the way from Afghanistan, within twenty minutes;
Sarah Chalfant, who saved my ass several more times;
Molly, who reminded me at the last minute of the virtues of inconsistency;
Judy Clain, for believing in me;
Eric Steel, for believing in me some more;
and anyone who ever read my blog, ever ever, but especially all of you who became family to me.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Julie Powell was born and raised in Austin, Texas, where she met her husband, Eric. After a long, long time spent working as a temp, she now writes in her pajamas in Long Island City, Queens, where she shares a “loft” apartment with Eric; their dog, Robert; their cats Maxine, Lumi, and Cooper; and their snake, Zuzu Marlene.
*Excerpted from a letter from Paul Child to his brother, Charles, 1949.(back to text)
*Excerpted from a letter from Paul Child to his brother, Charles, 1949.(back to text)