It's going to be 84 on this Saturday. Perfect weather for a bike ride for Coumadin Guy. Enough -- that's where you come to at some point. You realize that while, as Bob says, "everybody is busy dying," unless you are like grandchild number four, currently "busy being born" and due in mid-September, you at this time are no more busy dying than most everyone else. I reached that point yesterday when Dr. Y. started talking about "absolute circumstantial evidence..." of something or other in my blood. "Absolute circumstantial??" So let's just go on, wind down these doctor visits and see what happens next.
What happened next this morning, as Sam and I turned left out of the building to avoid the first NYC wacko of the day who was heading south talking to himself and berating others out early, was a perfect lovely NY story, a couple with young son in backpack carrier, she talking a picture of him in front of International House. I asked if they wanted a picture together and they said, "Sure." The English was excellent, but accented, so I asked after snapping the shutter where they were from and she replied, "Holland, but we met here," motioning toward IHouse. And I said, "Homecoming," with the handsome outcome of that chance meeting on Dad's back.
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