I have probably said it before and I will definitely say it again but I truly do not understand why I am lucky enough to have the smartest, funniest, kindest, wisest, most thoughtful, most introspective, most extrospective, most supportive people on the internet commenting on my blog. I had missed writing here for a lot of reasons but it wasn't until I started up again more regularly that I remembered how frabbing brilliant you people are and how much I enjoy, respect and learn from you all. I wish I could find a more sincere font in order to give the following statement sufficient gravitas but over the past four weeks this sentiment has once again been delivered to me by doves: really, I do not deserve you.
[Which is sort of not-ironic because my other resolution for the year was to stop reading comments. Not here, of course, but just in general. I swear upon the grave of John Peter Zenger that the Washington Post could publish a piece co-authored by a baby and a puppy about friendship and four hundred people would sign on to write that infants on planes should be punched in the face and the rest would say that the only time they like puppies is in sausage. Sorry. I cannot believe I just wrote that. But it's true. A couple and their grandchildren were killed in a house fire in Annapolis this past week and you would think the only thing a sane person could find to contribute about the deaths of these apparently loving, hard-working people and those beautiful beautiful children is: how tragic; I am so very sorry but... you don't even want to read those comments. They are, quite literally, sickening.]
Where was I? Oh right, shuddering.
But before that I was conveying my gratitude for the facility with which you... everything. Express yourself. Share. Help. Entertain. Connect.
So thank you. If this were a sexploitation movie from the 80s and we were all drunken frat brothers; right now I would be slurring "I luff yer gys" while giving you hug noogies.
PS I just went into the living room and found Patrick sitting on the couch.
"Hey! You! Perfect! I need you. What would you call a sincere font?"
"A sincere font?"
"Yes. You know, a font that would convey sincerity."
"Wooden Teeth," he said promptly.
I stared at him for a moment and then said, "Oh, ok. George Washington?"
He nodded, "But that's not it. Hold on. Wash. Geo. Washing. The font of the fort? Necessity. Orge. Trenton. Trees. Cherry. Virginia hill... Oh! Got it."
I thanked him for his time. He told me he would put it on my tab.