Revealing My Shorts

A few notes that will not blossom into a column:

A tricky thing about Twitter: If you're not careful with your character count, you can accidentally announce to the world that you're a twit

Boston Marathon: 6 hours, 23 minutes, 19 seconds, unofficially. To start and finish while on foot and without stopping for gas is the prize to keep.

Regarding the Roger Clemens explanation that he's somehow a blood relative of his step-father: Irrespective of whether those were B-12 shots in the hindquarters, we know for certain there's an intellectual gulf between "rocket" and "rocket scientist".

School is like anything else in life: Just get on top of it, and the way is smooth. The whole point of it--great or gruesome--is to learn handy new angles on crawling over assorted roadblocks in your journey on this rock. I'm told that one may be stunned in later years to discover just how useful a semester of Slam-Dunk Glassblowing will prove to be. We'll see about that.

I've been asked for some kind of quick logo or graphic to make as my own, above and beyond the too-ancient smiley face. I came up with a signet-like blend of my initials that's well-suited to a medium felt-tip pen. It's an autograph or stamp that can be thrown down in a hasty moment, and it's unique. If I can figure out the little clicky things at the top of the control space, I might post an image of it sometime. Surely your life is not such a void that you'll have to leave a haunting begging message in all caps, true?

For newcomers: My column comes first. I'm not on Twitter or MySpace or FaceBook and intend to stay off. I have events and practices of import in my life not involving those three. What I already immerse myself in is quite enough, but I appreciate the purpose and function of the abovementioned.

--KH