Watch my gears spinning. My gears have no teeth, but still.

Had my thrice-annual trip to Connecticut to visit with extended family. Bizarre. They're multiplying. You're next, someone grumbled, not really joking.

Bah. Offspring.

Japan produces greater wonders than progeny without even trying very hard. (Of course, their falling birth-rate is a serious societal issue that may eventually become as much of an interest to an international audience as their remarkable technical achievement and leadership in the exciting frontier of placing [launching, if you will] scantily clad insufferably cheerful young bouncy people onto mechanical horse-riding simulation devices.)

Do you ever look at something you've just written and wonder, "what thing made me?"

Perhaps I'm just in a philosophical mood. I suppose that I leaned back in my chair and ceased typing for about two minutes in order to pursue a day-dream regarding a potential theory of planetary motion in which the Earth, Heavens, and all else orbited fixedly around wherever in the world a curvy woman rode a riding machine would suggest as much. This theory is clearly impossible, of course; as if two such women were to attempt to ride separate riding machines anywhere in the cosmos simultaneously then our entire known universe would be ripped apart from the tear in space/time.

[Stroking beard] Yes. I think not so.


Coda