I love it when unexpectedly enchanting things crop up in the middle of the business day. Today when I told M. I was going to San Francisco, he told me to be sure to ride the cable cars and sing "I Left My Heart in San Francisco." Then, to my surprise, he was able to recite a whole stanza:

To be where little cable cars
climb halfway to the stars
The morning fog may chill the air,
I don't care

"I love those lines," he said.

I was impressed he even knew the words. Here's some lyrics to an SF song that has fallen out of fashion even more, but is still kind of cool.

Mike is doing some compelling writing this week, although the subject matter must be very painful. I did not know his late sister, and at the time I was only beginning to know a lot of the people who figure in his story. But I am grateful to read it anyway, because it brings back to me a time and place (Bloomington, IN, in 1988) that is long gone now--so long gone I sometimes find myself wondering if it ever happened.

Finally, you should have heard them wail this morning when I asked my staff to use a typewriter (to complete a form for the post office) today. Sheesh. You'd think I asked them to wash their clothes on the rocks or use a mangler. OK, maybe not "The Mangler." You get the idea.