The tiny mouse.
Once upon a time, there was a tiny mouse that wanted to fly, but he had no wings. He saw the birds flitting about and asked the blue jay, “where did you get your wings?” And the blue jay said, “I’ve just always had them. Where did you get your whiskers?” “Point well taken,” said the mouse, and learned to be happy with his natural gifts. Then he slept...
My first marriage.
It was a cold November morning in July, and the moon was full. The arctic breeze from the south made my home in Finland difficult to leave, but I had a plane to catch. Breakfast that morning consisted of an everything bagel, toasted of course, with a generous helping of cream cheese. I did not know that my wizard nemesis, Featherstoneaugh—he of the many superfluous consonants—had tampered with my...