32

So, yesterday I turned 32, but sometimes 32 turns you. I was able to go pick up the sail from Sailors' Tailor in the morning (they also make excellent bean bag chairs, should you need one, or like to give, as a gift, a comfortable place for a loved one to sit) due, primarily, to the generous allowance, by my sister, of the usage of her car, which is the color of the inside of a lime. Generally speaking, all is well. I spoke, via the internets, with my friend RR (Double R), and if you are ever in Tucson, Arizona you should go have breakfast at the Blue Willow. So, on the way back from Tara's in Pittsburgh, the FJ40 had a radiator meltdown, and the one I ordered from the Radiator Barn on Sunday just arrived in the mail, and looks great; all I have to do is install it. I arrived home in a tow truck on Saturday, having missed the Reggae Run 5k I was supposed to run in. Now, though, we have a masterfully patched sail (for only $91), and Nabokov's "brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness," with which we shall do who knows what? Sail? Let us not be the prisoners of time! From Tara I also received Chuck Klosterman's Killing Yourself To Live (the book that has been following me, or I it), the well recommended Requiem For a Paper Bag, and - most enthusiastically - a lego set of Frank Lloyd Wright's Falling Water.