Originally, this was going to go in a very different direction, to a much more realistic (and timely) topic — one I'll probably address somehow down the road. But once things went in motion, it wound up going... well, here. In one of the later "Tales of the City" books, the character Michael makes a return visit to a San Francisco mansion where he was once invited several years earlier for a party. At the time, he was impressed — a bit too much — by the place. Now, he looks at the brown velour wallpaper and wonders how that was possible. But we all have things in our lives we love... perhaps a bit too much... and when we pass on, they become less cherished possessions and more "well, what are we gonna do with this crap" for someone else to clean up. At the same time, there are those pieces that retain... well, for lack of a better word, a bit of magic. I have, for example, an old music score, carefully hand written in the 1950s. I've heard what it sounds like, thanks to modern technology, and it's a beautiful piece. It's never been recorded, because it was written for a very specific event. But listening to it, you can hear the joy the composer put into writing it. And not to get too morbid about it, but when I pass on, I dont care what happens to the books or the artwork or the DVD collection so much as I hope this score finds its way to another good home. The happiness that some things imbue need to be carried forward, somehow. OK, enough of this. Some buffer material while Sean figures out where to go from here. Hopefully, someplace as much fun as this... Till the next time...