And there you are again. Somewhere I think we are connected, but there I AM, going over the top as usual. But I imagine, often, that no one is more sensitive to either compliments or criticism than I. Yet once you set yourself upon the stage what can you expect? Once you are born, what is there in life unless you hide in a hole?

The first time someone gave me a gift as a child and I understood it for what it was I had no idea what to make of it. Why was it being given to me? What had I done to deserve this? I believe I was either three or four years old. Do you know how far I’ve progressed since? Not one day full of psychological maturity. I’ve barely learned how to say, “Thank you,” with a straight face, smiling. I do far better when a cat purrs and slowly closes its eyes, saying, “I love you.” For some reason, I easily accept that message.

I always have and always shall.

Because, I suppose, I do so very little for it. Except to love that cat. My cat, Miss California 2016—Cali for short and “Mein Kampf” when I am brushing her—has no trouble telling me she loves me regardless of the moment.

People make so many demands, you see. Or, at least, we assume that even when they don’t. We assume they are making these demands even when they don’t. So when they give us whatever they do, even compliments, we wonder how it is we deserve them when we haven’t given them something.

Odd, isn’t it?

I wish I could be with you and hold your hand at moments like these. Sorry. And you don't owe me any apologies, ever. You give me so much.

Possessor of Paul Newman eyes. Author of the straightforward & strange. “Women zai shuo ba.” Be useful; share what you can; help others always. Doctor of texts.