Thank you, sir!

Absolutely! Almost gave myself a quad pull yesterday when my foot lost traction.

I still remember (and recorded the moment in my Packers book) when I was jogging to Lambeau after ice and snow and slipped on the edge of a curb and landed on Oneida Street! This month, 2008.

Maybe in the ballpark, these:

Creepshow
New York Stories
The Hours
Cloud Atlas

Maureen Dowd’s dad grew up about 3 miles away. Coastal village called Fanore. Aran Islands just offshore. Where the path starts, in fact. Fanore.

Mighta had some mighty oaks back in the Bronze Age day. Bit of brush ahead. I exited it with a tick on my arm. Begone!

I read a paragraph shared here this morning and my thoughts flew to Bulwer-Lytton Contest entries.

Aw, man, back in 2019 I edited a mag profile of him. Pure pleasure reading about him. Hopefully I didn’t have to cut a single one of his interview words for space.

Every time he drops a cupcake I’m like, “Please, more mentions of their summer workouts together.” Maybe they should skip those.