[Little lamppost on the corner...evening sighing, “All's in order,”] It was December in Minnesota: cold, harsh, and incredibly white. I thought I had finished my album line-up, having recently written "Ruby Red Lipstick" and "Eloise, Eloise." Many of the mock-ups were done, and the concept was swirling around, present, but hidden; I could make out its shape, much like the fluttering snow twirling in the streets, but the edges and lines were still quite undefined. There was so