No, not recently but the memory and the yearning for it attacks me regularly: when my girls were little and they would, for no reason at all, leap into my arms for a hug. Good god, how I miss that.

In the present time, Mrs. Director does a great job around the house keeping things clean and orderly, all but one place: on and around her nightstand. There is a little zone of complete chaos there and she is mostly oblivious to it. Except when an avalanche happens.

what have you noticed recently that reminds you that we are gloriously, foible ridden humans?

Dude, my entire existence is one long FoibleFest.

I had one of those moments at lunch, of course.

I had a bottle of fizzy drink, and needed to do a big burp. I was trying to disguise it with a cough, but I erupted with a great big BLEUUUURP! Which was so loud that I scared myself.

My friend Nina who was with me collapsed into giggles at both the loudness of the burp, and the look of panic and fright on my face.

This is almost exactly what I was talking about in my second-last post about my art project that's incubating. It's what I live for.

I'm going to have to go with jonmc here.

Just yesterday I blew birch beer out my nose. So there.

Last week, I was carrying a big armload of dead vines I'd that hacked out of the backyard into the garage. It was wider than the person-door and so as I struggled to push the giant mass of foliage in through the door, one of vines snapped forward and knocked my glasses onto the concrete floor. So then I was standing there holding this giant unwieldy mass of ivy, blind, with my brand-new very-expansive glasses somewhere near my feet on a hard floor. I managed to just heave the whole mess forward as hard as I could and then bend down at the knees without moving my feet to feel around and find my glasses.