The time passed. The two mice, careering wildly, scampered cheekily over his slippers. He had not moved a muscle.

As Quakers, we do not as a matter of religion celebrate any holidays (more accurately, all days are to be considered holidays because they have equal potential for revealing the Divine to us), but as a cultural matter we celebrate all kinds: Hindu, Christian, Jewish, ethnic, birthdays of famous composers, artists, writers, and scientists, π Day (March 14th – we bake several pies and divide them into fractions before eating), even some we just make up ourselves.

Tooraloo, must get at the new White Mule. […] I didn’t set out to write a letter as long as this. What the hell’s the matter with me?

The rust on my bicycle chain made cycling to work very dangerous.