Sunday afternoon will go down as vital in my personal history. It comprised Detroit's first 2008 day of spring, and the first time that I enjoyed the completion of my home salon, which my suburban neighbors call, "the family room." With a fresh pot of Ethipean coffee, I laid alone on my new super-modern couch, and for the first time ever watched from beginning to end the cinematic masterpiece known as "Dr. Zhivago." If your life lacks a modern-designed salon, it surely does not lack the resources to create yourself one, as I did. And if your life lacks the memory of Dr. Zhivago, it certainly lacks any reason not to correct that as well.