It’s not often when you find out your little brother, the brother you think is still busy playing in the garage building Frankenstein’s bicycle out of old parts, is engaged. As those of you in the highly lucrative Christmas letter industry know, trying to remember what exactly happened this past year that kept you from starting to write until January 1 is the most perplexing part of the job. Other than that, the rhythm of our lives goes on.
Friday, July 18, 2003
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