Correction to my original post:

I've been married seven years, not five. The mistake probably lies in the fact that for roughly the first two years of our marriage, my wife and I lived in separate countries. I was in Idaho, she in Peru, both awaiting the slow and ponderous turning of the government cogs that would churn out the magic papers allowing her to come here and take up residence with me. Our seventh anniversary just passed, in fact. Congratulate me.

Well, this week, thus far, has been a little nightmarish. Life in a government office: Fluorescent lights and crackling keyboards; a Babel of voices spewing governmentese; an endless march of claims, attached to faces, attached to names . . . thirteen years now, and it's getting old. But at least I have a job.

One day, I'll land a writing contract. My Stryorr, or my Feymarryn, or my Surraphoi will take off and soar. For now . . . may I endure.

Ciao.