Yesterday, I got together with my old friend Hillel. When Hillel and I looked quite a bit different, we attended our high school junior year prom together.
Hillel and I have dealt with some major medical issues recently, so when we got our first looks at each other yesterday, we both said:
You look GREAT!
We argued a bit about who looked better, but soon we decided to look at new and familiar places on the North Shore of Massachusetts.
Now, you can look at those places, too.
As I look at some of those photos now, the horizon looks tilted, but it didn’t look that way yesterday.
I let my friends on Facebook get a look at me and Hillel yesterday and several of them wrote that we both looked great. I also showed Hillel my current Facebook profile photo (from our Junior High School yearbook) …
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It’s Saturday morning, which means the tension is starting to build for our weekly out-of-home social interaction. Regardless of whether we get together with people in a higher income bracket or a lower, my wife faults me for doing, saying, wearing, implying or inferring something I shouldn’t have.
“We tried a Choctaw for awhile, but we went back to Navajos.”
To give you a few examples: “You’re not going to wear that, are you?” are the words she usually says when she first sees the clothes I’ve put on. “Don’t mention anything about what I told you Lisa said about Jack, okay?”–whatever she said had been promptly forgotten by me as soon as I heard it.
But I live in a different world from her; tapping at my computer all day, yelling or being yelled at on the telephone, sending out bills, filling out timesheets. I rarely if ever come…
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