I refuse to admit I had a crush on Sam Shepard. I kept a distant eye on him over the years, mostly because I was mistaken--twice--for Jessica Lange.

As is often the case, I recruited someone who grew up deftly playing video games to help me with a tech-heavy installation this week. Where I had gotten frustrated with an old-school read-the-manual approach (i.e. eventually toss the inscrutable instructions into the recycle bin), he tried and erred and patiently unraveled the problem one tiny fragment at a time.

I've taken to dumping the mail order catalogs right into the recycle bin without looking them over. I used to take them upstairs and they would pile up (often unread for weeks).