I spent a night at the farm.  It was pretty good.  Youngest Nephew wiped mashed potato-covered baby fists all over my black shirt and then carefully explored the inside of my mouth with his fingers, comparing them to his own newly-grown set of teeth.  He can’t even talk yet and he’s doing comparative biology surveys with the parts he’s got under control (the feet still mostly kick randomly).  This kid is scary smart.

I was able to be useful to my parents, who are both over 75.  That matters to me.  I have lived at home more than once in my adult life in order to help them out, but circumstances no longer allow that.

You know you love someone when you’re a guy and cleaning out rain gutters then doing the dishes feels like the most rewarding thing in your week.