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Sorry for being away. I half-wrote several posts, but never quite got to finishing them (the story of my last few weeks). Since last we met there has been glorious sunshine, dancing, visits to the zoo, drenching rains, cleaning of houses, and that darn mouse.

Along the way, I meant to write to you about how short story collections are a form in themselves (and how surely Bradbury and Le Guin are amongst the finest exponents of that art), how intrigued I am by snatches from the new My Morning Jacket cd Z, my delight at the announcement of the impending re-release of Springsteen’s Born to Run, to enthuse even more about Neil’s “Sunbird” (which I like more and more), and a bunch of other good things.

Most of all, though, this morning I woke up and things didn’t seem so bad for the first time in a while. I’ve got to email some folk about heading out for drinks this weekend, and draft a short speech for one of my very best friend’s wedding. And then there’s my Sophie’s fourth birthday. It’s easy to get caught up in the grind of the day-to-day, and to forget how delightful such things are. I can’t believe it’s been nearly twenty one years since I met Robin (about time he found a nice girl and settled down), nor can I believe it’s been four years since Sophie was born. It seems like yesterday. And it’s only twenty-six days till I head off for the States. Too much to do, which makes it too easy to overlook how good life is, but life is good.

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