I was watering the new bougainvillea for the second time today (we're having a miserable heat wave) when it suddenly dawned on me: my closest friends are all named Chris. I have many friends, but my tightest fellows all have the same name as me.
You go through life thinking you're a complex, unknowable lagoon of blended motivations and subconscious influences, and then once in a while you realize something like this.
Tonight we are going to our Italian place. I suppose an actuarial table could predict what I'm going to have, but I may as well just tell you. I'm going to have the veal milanese, like I do every other time we go there. I like the potatoes it comes with.