Today's mail included the July issue of Subject Area, and the January issue of Topics in Subject, each in its own envelope.
I am all greasy, and Jane has a rash around her mouth.
Steve is stuck in the San Francisco airport, waiting for his delayed flight to arrive so that he can come home to my greasy, loving arms.*
Jane, incidentally, would like you to know that this direction is up:
Indeed, all day long, in the stroller, walking about, clambering on the furniture, having her diaper changed, she pipes: UP! UP! UP! and points accordingly, her index finger held proudly aloft like a tiny sceptre.
Yesterday I was untangling a wadded up set of onesie pyjamas and wondered aloud, "Which way is up?" Across the room, Jane's finger immediately flew ceilingward. How true, that way is up. Thank you!
*Oops, Steve's flight has been switched from delayed to canceled. He reports that he still might be able to make it onto some mythical last flight out via standby, but one rather doubts it. Isn't this breaking news exciting? Transit, like your humble narrator: the fascinatingest.
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