It turns out writing haiku is fun, and since this blog is really just a self-indulgent therapeutic tool, I’m going to write more. (Don’t worry, April is not a theme month.) So subsequent entries will be haiku. Comments are welcome as always, but with one stipulation: the comment must also be in haiku form (three lines; five, seven, and five syllables respectively).
LOST
Is that bear polar?
Don't worry! Sawyer is here!
You won't get eaten.
James is an a-hole.
So? He shot a polar bear.
Poor, poor polar bear.
Jack and Kate? No way!
Jack is way too self-righteous.
And he wears a shirt.
Sawyer wears no shirt
when digging a hole in sand.
She said "paralyzed"!
Friday, March 30, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Friday, March 23, 2007
Breaking news
I took a magical online quiz the other day to find out who my celebrity boob twin is. My celebrity boob twin is Charlize Theron. Coincidentally, she is also my face twin. Lucky lady.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Women ride elevators too.
In my list of articles you should read (to the right) is one discussing Vienna’s decision to use more progressive gender signs when labeling such activities as diaper changing and elevator use (this was previously a man-only sign). Vienna is going to begin displaying diaper-change signs with an image of a male doing this activity. Crazy! Why would we want to (1) acknowledge that men change diapers, (2) encourage this activity, (3) stop making men feel shame for doing a “woman’s” job, and (4) stop alienating men who are participatory, involved, and competent fathers? I can’t think of any reason.
The next thing you know Clorox will start saying “Papa’s got the magic of Clorox” (thankfully now only Mama’s got that magic); JIF will allow choosy dads and grandpas to choose JIF all by themselves (thankfully now they make a point to say “choosy moms—and dads/grandpas—choose JIF); and Pine Sol, Clorox, Lysol, Swiffer, Scrubbing Bubbles, Glade, baby shampoo, etc. products will start showing men using their products in their commercials. I’m sure Jerry Falwell and Franklin Graham will agree with me when I say such occurrences will likely be the reason God brings the next natural disaster or terrorist attack to the United States. In addition, women must continue to be the sole cleaners of toilets and disinfectors of kitchens or else they will turn into lesbians.
In all seriousness, of course women use cleaning and cooking products, and women change diapers and take care of babies, and this is perfectly okay; I’m not suggesting females stop doing these activities. What I am suggesting is that men be acknowledged for doing the same activities. Gone are the days when men could get away with not changing diapers because their lack of competence was cute and expected (unless you are watching America’s Funniest Home Videos with Jean Wickham in Celebration, Florida, and they show a series of men dry heaving while trying to change a poopy diaper—then it’s cute. And I’m sure women dry heave at baby poop too, it’s just not shown on America’s Funniest Home Videos). Vienna, at least, has begun to acknowledge that men are just as important and capable as women in child rearing and cultivating a healthy and loving family life, maybe because women are being acknowledged (although not yet payment-wise) as just as important and capable as men in providing income.
Cheers to you, Vienna. It's a start.
The next thing you know Clorox will start saying “Papa’s got the magic of Clorox” (thankfully now only Mama’s got that magic); JIF will allow choosy dads and grandpas to choose JIF all by themselves (thankfully now they make a point to say “choosy moms—and dads/grandpas—choose JIF); and Pine Sol, Clorox, Lysol, Swiffer, Scrubbing Bubbles, Glade, baby shampoo, etc. products will start showing men using their products in their commercials. I’m sure Jerry Falwell and Franklin Graham will agree with me when I say such occurrences will likely be the reason God brings the next natural disaster or terrorist attack to the United States. In addition, women must continue to be the sole cleaners of toilets and disinfectors of kitchens or else they will turn into lesbians.
In all seriousness, of course women use cleaning and cooking products, and women change diapers and take care of babies, and this is perfectly okay; I’m not suggesting females stop doing these activities. What I am suggesting is that men be acknowledged for doing the same activities. Gone are the days when men could get away with not changing diapers because their lack of competence was cute and expected (unless you are watching America’s Funniest Home Videos with Jean Wickham in Celebration, Florida, and they show a series of men dry heaving while trying to change a poopy diaper—then it’s cute. And I’m sure women dry heave at baby poop too, it’s just not shown on America’s Funniest Home Videos). Vienna, at least, has begun to acknowledge that men are just as important and capable as women in child rearing and cultivating a healthy and loving family life, maybe because women are being acknowledged (although not yet payment-wise) as just as important and capable as men in providing income.
Cheers to you, Vienna. It's a start.
Before you feed your pet:
I hope this is old news to you, and I hope your main source of news is not my flaky blog, but just in case: read this article before you feed your cat or dog.
http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/03/17/petfood.recall.ap/index.html
Here is the list of recalled food (taken directly from the article):
Recalled cat foods
Americas Choice; Preferred Pets; Authority; Best Choice; Companion; Compliments; Demoulas Market Basket; Fine Feline Cat, Shep Dog; Food Lion; Foodtown; Giant Companion; Good n Meaty; Hannaford; Hill Country Fare; Hy-Vee; Key Food; Laura Lynn; Li'l Red; Loving Meals; Main Choice; Nutriplan; Nutro Max Gourmet Classics; Nutro Natural Choice; Paws; Presidents Choice; Price Chopper; Priority; Save-A-Lot; Schnucks; Sophistacat; Special Kitty; Springfield Pride; Sprout; Total Pet; My True Friend; Wegmans; Western Family; White Rose; and Winn Dixie.
Recalled dog foods
America's Choice; Preferred Pets; Authority; Award; Best Choice; Big Bet; Big Red; Bloom; Bruiser; Cadillac; Companion; Demoulas Market Basket; Fine Feline Cat; Shep Dog; Food Lion; Giant Companion; Great Choice; Hannaford; Hill Country Fare; Hy-Vee; Key Food; Laura Lynn; Loving Meals; Main Choice; Mixables; Nutriplan; Nutro Max; Nutro Natural Choice; Nutro; Ol'Roy; Paws; Pet Essentials; Pet Pride; President's Choice; Price Chopper; Priority; Publix; Roche Bros; Save-A-Lot; Schnucks; Springsfield Pride; Sprout; Stater Bros; Total Pet; My True Friend; Western Family; White Rose; Winn Dixie and Your Pet.
call 1-866-895-2708 for more information.
http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/03/17/petfood.recall.ap/index.html
Here is the list of recalled food (taken directly from the article):
Recalled cat foods
Americas Choice; Preferred Pets; Authority; Best Choice; Companion; Compliments; Demoulas Market Basket; Fine Feline Cat, Shep Dog; Food Lion; Foodtown; Giant Companion; Good n Meaty; Hannaford; Hill Country Fare; Hy-Vee; Key Food; Laura Lynn; Li'l Red; Loving Meals; Main Choice; Nutriplan; Nutro Max Gourmet Classics; Nutro Natural Choice; Paws; Presidents Choice; Price Chopper; Priority; Save-A-Lot; Schnucks; Sophistacat; Special Kitty; Springfield Pride; Sprout; Total Pet; My True Friend; Wegmans; Western Family; White Rose; and Winn Dixie.
Recalled dog foods
America's Choice; Preferred Pets; Authority; Award; Best Choice; Big Bet; Big Red; Bloom; Bruiser; Cadillac; Companion; Demoulas Market Basket; Fine Feline Cat; Shep Dog; Food Lion; Giant Companion; Great Choice; Hannaford; Hill Country Fare; Hy-Vee; Key Food; Laura Lynn; Loving Meals; Main Choice; Mixables; Nutriplan; Nutro Max; Nutro Natural Choice; Nutro; Ol'Roy; Paws; Pet Essentials; Pet Pride; President's Choice; Price Chopper; Priority; Publix; Roche Bros; Save-A-Lot; Schnucks; Springsfield Pride; Sprout; Stater Bros; Total Pet; My True Friend; Western Family; White Rose; Winn Dixie and Your Pet.
call 1-866-895-2708 for more information.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
The F-word.
I’m probably now just one of a bagillion people who have commented on this story, but in case you are not apprised, I’m commenting.
Speaking at the Conservative Political Action Conference, Ann Coulter said the following:
“I was going to have a few comments on the other Democratic presidential candidate John Edwards, but it turns out you have to go into rehab if you use the word ‘faggot,’ so I—so I’m kind of at an impasse, and can’t really talk about Edwards.”
Hoe lee kah rap.
Rehab? I don’t really get why that’s funny, or how it makes sense. If by “rehab” you mean advertisers will pull their ads from your Web site and newspapers will drop your column, then I get it. And you are a big fan of making up your own definitions for words anyway:
“I didn’t use an insulting word. I used a schoolyard word, about a married man with children—for the eight billionth time, and the audience knew that. I mean the joke wouldn’t have worked if I had inserted the name of a gay Democrat. Any other Democrat, the name could have been inserted. It could have been Howard Dean or Hillary Clinton because it’s a schoolyard taunt meaning wuss, meaning nerd, meaning weenie, meaning lame.” (says the lady on Fox News)
So, Ms. Coulter, let me get this straight: it’s not an insulting word, but you wouldn’t use it for a gay Democrat? Why not? Aren’t some gay people “nerds” too? So, following this logic, you could call Hillary Clinton the N-word, but not Barack Obama? I mean, calling someone an N-word is really just calling him or her a dummyhead, right? Well, as long as they are not black.
The editor of The Lancaster, PA, newspaper New Era, who dropped Ann’s column after her statements, put it best:
“Lancaster County residents of whatever political view—conservative, moderate, or liberal—deserve intelligent discussion of issues. Ann Coulter no longer provides that.”
I don’t know, nor do I want to know or even think about, why she chose to use the word. I’m just glad people recognize how horrible it is.
And Ann, just for future reference, the Webster’s definition for “faggot” is: “usually disparaging: a male homosexual.”
Funny, I don’t see “weenie” in there at all.
Speaking at the Conservative Political Action Conference, Ann Coulter said the following:
“I was going to have a few comments on the other Democratic presidential candidate John Edwards, but it turns out you have to go into rehab if you use the word ‘faggot,’ so I—so I’m kind of at an impasse, and can’t really talk about Edwards.”
Hoe lee kah rap.
Rehab? I don’t really get why that’s funny, or how it makes sense. If by “rehab” you mean advertisers will pull their ads from your Web site and newspapers will drop your column, then I get it. And you are a big fan of making up your own definitions for words anyway:
“I didn’t use an insulting word. I used a schoolyard word, about a married man with children—for the eight billionth time, and the audience knew that. I mean the joke wouldn’t have worked if I had inserted the name of a gay Democrat. Any other Democrat, the name could have been inserted. It could have been Howard Dean or Hillary Clinton because it’s a schoolyard taunt meaning wuss, meaning nerd, meaning weenie, meaning lame.” (says the lady on Fox News)
So, Ms. Coulter, let me get this straight: it’s not an insulting word, but you wouldn’t use it for a gay Democrat? Why not? Aren’t some gay people “nerds” too? So, following this logic, you could call Hillary Clinton the N-word, but not Barack Obama? I mean, calling someone an N-word is really just calling him or her a dummyhead, right? Well, as long as they are not black.
The editor of The Lancaster, PA, newspaper New Era, who dropped Ann’s column after her statements, put it best:
“Lancaster County residents of whatever political view—conservative, moderate, or liberal—deserve intelligent discussion of issues. Ann Coulter no longer provides that.”
I don’t know, nor do I want to know or even think about, why she chose to use the word. I’m just glad people recognize how horrible it is.
And Ann, just for future reference, the Webster’s definition for “faggot” is: “usually disparaging: a male homosexual.”
Funny, I don’t see “weenie” in there at all.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Love Letter #20
Dear Sawyer,
You are my last February love letter. Thank you for not buttoning your shirt all the way and for teaching Jin to be a smooth lover. You should have told Kate you were sorry. Wait, better idea: you should have taken off your shirt and told her you were sorry. But you know this. I enjoy our Wednesday nights. Stay dirty.
Love,
Tara
You are my last February love letter. Thank you for not buttoning your shirt all the way and for teaching Jin to be a smooth lover. You should have told Kate you were sorry. Wait, better idea: you should have taken off your shirt and told her you were sorry. But you know this. I enjoy our Wednesday nights. Stay dirty.
Love,
Tara
Love Letter #19
Dear psycho lady from Hartford at the BU basketball game,
I do not generally encourage psychoness, but in your case I will make an exception. Not only was the game at which I saw you the most entertaining game of basketball I've ever attended, but it was the most entertaining postgame show I've ever witnessed. I have you to thank for this. You and your red sweater and frantic disposition. Your overzealousness and your general disregard for blood pressure rate or the well-being of those around you are to be admired--from the mezzanine, far, far away.
Remember when you got yelled at for going onto the court? What was up with that? Didn't that student worker know that you have a right to talk directly to the referee? I'm sure you told Coach Liebovitz, and Coach Gallagher, and Coach Gerlufsen, and Coach Broadnax all about it, and they rightly sympathized until you left them alone. That Coach Gallagher is a great hugger, isn't he? He sure looked like a good hugger--from the mezzanine, far, far away.
The ticket stub from this game may make it into my scrapbook.
Love,
Tara
I do not generally encourage psychoness, but in your case I will make an exception. Not only was the game at which I saw you the most entertaining game of basketball I've ever attended, but it was the most entertaining postgame show I've ever witnessed. I have you to thank for this. You and your red sweater and frantic disposition. Your overzealousness and your general disregard for blood pressure rate or the well-being of those around you are to be admired--from the mezzanine, far, far away.
Remember when you got yelled at for going onto the court? What was up with that? Didn't that student worker know that you have a right to talk directly to the referee? I'm sure you told Coach Liebovitz, and Coach Gallagher, and Coach Gerlufsen, and Coach Broadnax all about it, and they rightly sympathized until you left them alone. That Coach Gallagher is a great hugger, isn't he? He sure looked like a good hugger--from the mezzanine, far, far away.
The ticket stub from this game may make it into my scrapbook.
Love,
Tara
Love Letter #18
Dear NPR (especially Steve and Renee),
You know my feelings for you. Please don't ever leave me.
Love,
Tara
You know my feelings for you. Please don't ever leave me.
Love,
Tara
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Love Letter #17
Dear text messaging,
I know Jim Weed doesn't like you, but who cares. I like you enough for many, many people. When my prehusband* and I started dating, when he was working second shift, and staying up until three o'clock in the morning talking on the phone stopped being practical for me who works at seven o'clock, you were a key form of communication between he and I. You knew a half-hour lunch break was not long enough for two people falling in love, so you helped us out. It was all a grand conspiracy between you and God. You're lucky: it turns out I'm okay with this love thing.
And you're way less commital than most any other form of communication.
Jim will come around.
*The term prehusband was coined by co-worker; I can take no credit for its existence. Because it turns out, prehusbands are never really boyfriends, and the word is way less society pages than fiance.
I know Jim Weed doesn't like you, but who cares. I like you enough for many, many people. When my prehusband* and I started dating, when he was working second shift, and staying up until three o'clock in the morning talking on the phone stopped being practical for me who works at seven o'clock, you were a key form of communication between he and I. You knew a half-hour lunch break was not long enough for two people falling in love, so you helped us out. It was all a grand conspiracy between you and God. You're lucky: it turns out I'm okay with this love thing.
And you're way less commital than most any other form of communication.
Jim will come around.
*The term prehusband was coined by co-worker; I can take no credit for its existence. Because it turns out, prehusbands are never really boyfriends, and the word is way less society pages than fiance.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Love Letter #15
Dear Al Gore,
Congratulations on your Academy Award. I stayed up late in 2000 to watch you win the popular vote, and I stayed up late last night to watch you win an Oscar. I saw the movie back in October, and like a good nerd I even stayed after for discussion. And they had pizza. I love pizza.
You know, I can’t help but be proud. We go back many years, more than ten, to high school, when I was diligent secretary of the Student Environmental Awareness Society. You were a great source of information. I could always count on you for advice. Remember those days? When I was a polite everygirl just trying to get an A on my English paper and you and Bill were trying to build all those “bridges”? We were decidedly more moderate then. I just wanted everyone to like me, and, well, you wanted to be president one day. I voted for you.
You broke my heart January of my junior year of college when you decided to teach at the Columbia University’s Graduate School of Journalism that year. You couldn’t have waited until 2002 when I could have actually been a grad student at the school (because of course I would have been accepted, been able to afford it, and gotten into the class)? I would take a math class if you taught it, even though me + numbers ≠ love. Me + you (however) = a different story.
So enjoy this limelight and the good it is doing. You are smart and funny and I like you. Ignore the haters. But if you ever feel blue, bring Peyton and Drew over and we’ll all get drunk and weatherproof my apartment. And Al, I know you’re serial. Me too.
Love,
Tara
Congratulations on your Academy Award. I stayed up late in 2000 to watch you win the popular vote, and I stayed up late last night to watch you win an Oscar. I saw the movie back in October, and like a good nerd I even stayed after for discussion. And they had pizza. I love pizza.
You know, I can’t help but be proud. We go back many years, more than ten, to high school, when I was diligent secretary of the Student Environmental Awareness Society. You were a great source of information. I could always count on you for advice. Remember those days? When I was a polite everygirl just trying to get an A on my English paper and you and Bill were trying to build all those “bridges”? We were decidedly more moderate then. I just wanted everyone to like me, and, well, you wanted to be president one day. I voted for you.
You broke my heart January of my junior year of college when you decided to teach at the Columbia University’s Graduate School of Journalism that year. You couldn’t have waited until 2002 when I could have actually been a grad student at the school (because of course I would have been accepted, been able to afford it, and gotten into the class)? I would take a math class if you taught it, even though me + numbers ≠ love. Me + you (however) = a different story.
So enjoy this limelight and the good it is doing. You are smart and funny and I like you. Ignore the haters. But if you ever feel blue, bring Peyton and Drew over and we’ll all get drunk and weatherproof my apartment. And Al, I know you’re serial. Me too.
Love,
Tara
Friday, February 23, 2007
Love Letter #13
Dear Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, Eleventh Edition,
You are a daily source of knowledge to whom I appeal for help. A constant weekday companion, you help me set high standards of consistency and word use.Without you I would be lost. I sometimes wonder if I rely on you too much—I don’t always get the yellow-card questions right when playing Cranium, I inadvertently misuse words in conversation. I really missed you Sunday when reviewing the Missions Committee presentation and I couldn’t remember if day care was one word or two. Luckily, I relied on everything you’ve taught me so far (and on the advice of a fellow churchgoer) and correctly left it as two words. Many of your lessons I’ve committed to memory, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop needing you.
Love,
Tara
P.S. Coming in a computer program as well in this edition was a fabulous idea. Thank you for being so convenient and practical.
You are a daily source of knowledge to whom I appeal for help. A constant weekday companion, you help me set high standards of consistency and word use.Without you I would be lost. I sometimes wonder if I rely on you too much—I don’t always get the yellow-card questions right when playing Cranium, I inadvertently misuse words in conversation. I really missed you Sunday when reviewing the Missions Committee presentation and I couldn’t remember if day care was one word or two. Luckily, I relied on everything you’ve taught me so far (and on the advice of a fellow churchgoer) and correctly left it as two words. Many of your lessons I’ve committed to memory, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop needing you.
Love,
Tara
P.S. Coming in a computer program as well in this edition was a fabulous idea. Thank you for being so convenient and practical.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Love Letter #12
Dear pink sweater,
I know we just met, but I feel bold enough to tell you that I'm very happy we found each other. You are giving and warm, and we are a perfect match. This week I've worn you twice--but I don't care; this kind of love knows no shame. You bring out the best in me. I hope I never outgrow you.
Love,
Tara
I know we just met, but I feel bold enough to tell you that I'm very happy we found each other. You are giving and warm, and we are a perfect match. This week I've worn you twice--but I don't care; this kind of love knows no shame. You bring out the best in me. I hope I never outgrow you.
Love,
Tara
Monday, February 19, 2007
Love Letter #11
Dear irony,
I think you know by now how I feel about you. Your presence in my life only enriches it. Many times you are sad, but often sadness is what makes something beautiful. So I forgive/appreciate you for it. But many times you are funny, like that time when you made Sara trip over the "Caution Wet Floor" sign, or when you cancelled the attempt at making the record for most snow angels because there was too much snow.
I try to acknowledge every instance of you in my life. At times I miss you (because you have to be so subtle sometimes!). I'm sorry how misused you are. I promise to try to treat you well.
Love,
Tara
I think you know by now how I feel about you. Your presence in my life only enriches it. Many times you are sad, but often sadness is what makes something beautiful. So I forgive/appreciate you for it. But many times you are funny, like that time when you made Sara trip over the "Caution Wet Floor" sign, or when you cancelled the attempt at making the record for most snow angels because there was too much snow.
I try to acknowledge every instance of you in my life. At times I miss you (because you have to be so subtle sometimes!). I'm sorry how misused you are. I promise to try to treat you well.
Love,
Tara
Friday, February 16, 2007
Love Letter #10
Dear Methodists,
I like you. You care about some really dumb things sometimes, but you also care about some pretty important things. I wish you weren't so in love with the status quo, and you invoke Jesus' name far too often when it's really Paul you worship. But I still like you.
Most people hear the words "organized religion" and freak out--with good reason. I like to focus on the adjective: organized. (Unfortunately, such organization has hurt many many people for no good reason; but such organization can help many many people for very good reasons.) Religion is a human creation anyway. Aren't you striving for something more? When I'm around you I can feel you wanting to be more than just a well-behaved supporter of social manners and of keeping the church chairs looking pretty.
Except, you're often too polite and too scared to talk about what's really important, let alone act on it. Toes recover from being stepped on. Comfort can be regained after change. And you are far too concerned with what you deserve to have because of your goodness. But I join with you in organization because we are humans and flawed and I because I know you and I can do better. I promise to remind you of this if you remind me.
Love,
Tara
I like you. You care about some really dumb things sometimes, but you also care about some pretty important things. I wish you weren't so in love with the status quo, and you invoke Jesus' name far too often when it's really Paul you worship. But I still like you.
Most people hear the words "organized religion" and freak out--with good reason. I like to focus on the adjective: organized. (Unfortunately, such organization has hurt many many people for no good reason; but such organization can help many many people for very good reasons.) Religion is a human creation anyway. Aren't you striving for something more? When I'm around you I can feel you wanting to be more than just a well-behaved supporter of social manners and of keeping the church chairs looking pretty.
Except, you're often too polite and too scared to talk about what's really important, let alone act on it. Toes recover from being stepped on. Comfort can be regained after change. And you are far too concerned with what you deserve to have because of your goodness. But I join with you in organization because we are humans and flawed and I because I know you and I can do better. I promise to remind you of this if you remind me.
Love,
Tara
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Love Letter #9
Dear Brian,
Happy birthday. Your picture is the only one I circled and wrote "hot" next to in my sixth grade yearbook. Then we met in high school. Then the pedestal was built. And as it turns out, "three down" wasn't just a threat after all. We were funny. The Cowboys suck.
Love,
Tara
Happy birthday. Your picture is the only one I circled and wrote "hot" next to in my sixth grade yearbook. Then we met in high school. Then the pedestal was built. And as it turns out, "three down" wasn't just a threat after all. We were funny. The Cowboys suck.
Love,
Tara
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Love Letter #8
Dear Drew Bledsoe,
Happy birthday. I miss you. Don't listen to what people say--you are a way better quarterback than they are. You can come back to Buffalo anytime. And it's okay if you want to take off your shirt. If you ever need a hug, you know where to find me.
Love,
Tara
Happy birthday. I miss you. Don't listen to what people say--you are a way better quarterback than they are. You can come back to Buffalo anytime. And it's okay if you want to take off your shirt. If you ever need a hug, you know where to find me.
Love,
Tara
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Love Letter #7
Dear Post-its,
You are practical and wonderful. You are always there when I need you. You are versatile and giving and are so capable of adapting to any situation for which a person may need you: a flag on a page in a Chicago Manual of Style, a beautiful decoration on a computer monitor reminding one to put the new Figure 24.1 in the pharamaceuticals book, an alert to a typesetter that the mysterious brown stain on the corner of a page is coffee, just coffee. Your many colors make life more exciting. You even come in recycled form now, living many lives and sharing with us the stories of your goodness. Someday I will figure out how to properly thank you, but for now, this love letter will have to do.
Love,
Tara
You are practical and wonderful. You are always there when I need you. You are versatile and giving and are so capable of adapting to any situation for which a person may need you: a flag on a page in a Chicago Manual of Style, a beautiful decoration on a computer monitor reminding one to put the new Figure 24.1 in the pharamaceuticals book, an alert to a typesetter that the mysterious brown stain on the corner of a page is coffee, just coffee. Your many colors make life more exciting. You even come in recycled form now, living many lives and sharing with us the stories of your goodness. Someday I will figure out how to properly thank you, but for now, this love letter will have to do.
Love,
Tara
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