"Crap! I wish I hadn't seen Ricky on the sidewalk."

"You will be fine for 31 minutes. You will be dead in 32 minutes."

Saturday, June 8, 2013


When Sara was born in 1990, I busied myself with making pop-up birth announcements. Let us say the resulting cards were long on ambition and short on skill and execution. 

I'm sure half the recipients couldn't even get the envelope open, given the amount of rubber cement I used.

When Sam showed up five years later, I went back to the drawing board. Or rather, the kitchen table. Rubber cement was still involved, but sparingly. 

It's quite possible Sam's birth announcement was the dawn of my love affair with torn construction paper.

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