Now I'm second-guessing myself. Why would Stuart have asked for a potato and onion to bring to school this morning? I mean, presumably so the teachers could do all the necessary peeling and dicing without eight three-to-five-year-olds underfoot. Still, I'm second-guessing.
Somehow, these things have become Very! Important! It's oddly centering.
I don't think I even need to explain the impetus for my tattoo.
Max stepped into his private boat and waved good-bye and sailed back over a year and in and out of weeks and through a day and into the night of his very own room where he found his supper waiting for him -
and it was still hot.