"that old musty cheese that we are"

the last bits and pieces of family reunition have driven off into the sticky haze of morning. weeks of cousins and a few days of uncles and aunts, people who look like us and yet no longer seem much like us come and go. we feel as though we are ever the same, wrinkling here, there, hands that look older, smiles that crinkle a shadowy recollection of the children we once were. and yet we all are not the same, not at all. bitter? sweet? ever so.




henry wields new light sabers, the purchase of which became necessary as we realized that henry believed we had lied to him when we were merely pretending to order light sabers by telephone. he diligently watched for the mailman on a near-daily basis. "the mailman is bringing light sabers -- grandmama called on the phone." such faith should not be squashed. so we who love the internet purchased two, a red and a blue, so that the fighting could be force-fully fabulous.

in other news, thank you, america, we had faith in you! go kaysar! as we sit late in the night in the cold drinking limeade we rejoice in your good grooming and subsequent eyebrow perfection. we realize that you would not be as appealing were you abandoned in guatemala unless you were allowed a complete waxing system as a luxury item. we are rooting for you and your winning smile!

welcome friday and the weekend that follows. this morning we woke cold, with noses that crackled from the extreme change of temperature. the synthetic air for which we will pay dearly is not our panacea, it's good for sleeping but not much else as we lousily start the day only thinking of coffee, something hot to remedy our habitual late nights and early rising.

let me have a draught of undiluted morning air. morning air! if men will not drink of this at the fountainhead of the day, why, then, we must even bottle up some and sell it in the shops, for the benefit of those who have lost their subscription ticket to morning time in this world. but remember, it will not keep quite till noonday even in the coolest cellar, but drive out the stopples long ere that and follow westward the steps of aurora.