These two drive me up a thousand walls every hour, on the hour, just being themselves. Yet a day is going to come, sooner rather than later, when I'll see them less and less. And I've no idea how to deal with that day, as it comes barreling down, ***ster and ***ster, like a rockslide. I can barely handle the thought of it now. I wish I hated them. Forever X's and O's, girls. Easter Sunday, 2014.
Never forget: enthusiastic, ***nny pack-accessorized older gentleman dancing his improvisational and very involved dance directly in front of the weekly house reggae band at a brew pub in Brattleboro, Vermont. Some combination of west African dance and a five-year-old boy pretending to be a wizard.
