Good to be a Girl
Made jam for Fathers Day with Claudia last night. It's just precious how we know EVERYTHING. Wonder twin powers unite to form....unstopable think tank.

Spoke with a friend about how the blog is supposed to work- who gets it, who doesn't, but even more important...and this determines everything...what is said, and what gets left out. I've always believed that if you can't admit and talk about the decisions, choices and experiences you've had, then you've probably been living all wrong. Even still, we don't have to talk about them here. If you do- you're like Uncle Bruce- the city streeker. People know you, like what you're doing, buy you a beer even--but they probably won't come to your birthday party.

Today in the office I found a bright yellow canary outside the office door and peering in. I recruited a woman in the office next to me to verify the honesty of the vision, and she having a way with canarys went outside, caught him, and wrestled him into a big brown box. We decided the bird needed air and some light too, so we took a pair of sharp sissors and started stabbing away at the box; the little guy flapped and freaked. Another woman in the office ran out during her lunch break and bought him a cage and some food. Now 'peeps' is the office mascot, the hero encouraging morale. Mr. Peeps is also the girl friday mascot who sits pretty in a cage next to my desk...irony of ironies. Bird and cages. Chirp Chirp.