New digits...

Well, all things must pass, and so we are leaving our beloved mothership in the Hollywood Hills. 7 days to go. The place is torn apart and filled with boxes and rectangles of unfaded wallpaper. Micro-memory particles hang in the air, knocked as loose as all the asbestos I've been bumping into in the garage. I will have lived here exactly four years, Sarah slightly less. We're absolutely wrecked at the thought of leaving this place that has been so good to us, but looking forward to the adventure that lies ahead...

I read somewhere recently about a woman who was born without fingerprints (aka Naegeli syndrome). Aside from being able to enjoy a life of gloveless thievery, she was also excused from acts of moving, since she was physically incabable of picking up cardboard boxes. Indeed the tiny, whirling dunes of flesh on our hands and feet act like suction cups, with just enough give and moistness to enhance our grip many times over. No "friction ridge skin zones," no picking up boxes.

I've always wondered how those lizards and insects do all that upside-down walking... What mechanism enables them to saunter where ever they choose, gravity and surface materials be damned? In typical form, Sarah had the correct answer: "They just don't think about it."

("Portrait in Blood" by Larry Gianettino)