At the end of this month on Friday, February 29th, I mark the tenth actual anniversary of my birth. I suppose that makes it a tetrannuation, or quadranniversary, or something like that. Suffice it to say that upon celebrating ten "real" birthdays I'll be staring at the great downhill grade from the top of the forty-year hill, wondering whether they'll have invented blood-nannies before I hit the drop-off. I'm sure you're all wondering what to get me. In years past I've pointed you at my wish-list. This year I'm going to be greedier. I want you to send me a postcard. I want to see where you're from. I want to see something you wrote with your own hand. I want (I want I want I want -- I'm starting to sound like my children) to be able to take a picture of two hundred square feet of postcard wallpaper, and share it with you on my birthday. Here's the mailing address: So... you have about three weeks to get this thing sent. Yes, I'll remind you of it again in a week or so.
