5 : 1 0 P M I heard her cab pull up and went down to the street to help her with her bags. Made a little bet with myself that the first thing she was going to say would be some snide comment about my clothes. I was almost right. "Phoebe," which is my name, was the first thing she actually uttered. Then some stuff about her flight, and how was I? and all that. This is the feel-each-other-out part. But then, as I knew she would, she looked askance at my shirt. Then she said, "I like your outfit. It's so 70's." Hmmm. It seems we might be encountering a slight variation in the ritual....