He said: "It is amazing how many men in Washington, DC are undergoing chemo of one type or another. You can see for yourself, just walking down the street, and seeing how many men have lost their hair because of the radiation. Not one hair left on they're naked head. I never thought that so many men could be that sick. Maybe it has to do with AIDS or something. A few years ago, you could see the woman who had breast cancer and who had lost all of their hair, but the men loosing their hair like that is new; seems like I noticed it just in the passed few months. Of course I don't feel comfortable asking how they lost their hair, all of it. It's none of my business. But I sure hope it doesn't happen to me, whatever it is."

Stumble It!

She said: "Oh, she was a funny one! Both of them, actually; two strange birds. Nice though. Good neighbors and all; just a little nutty. Like with their three sons: named them Rick, Dick and Chick. For real! And no middle names, just "Rick", "Dick" and Chick". Sounds like a comedy team, but they weren't. They were good kids, though. Rick was the oldest and a little shy. He's at University now, I guess. Dick was a handful. Boy, he was into everything, causing all kinds of trouble. I wouldn't be surprised to read about him in the morning paper some day. Chick was the youngest and I guess still is. No one sees much of him. He's the shy one. What a bunch, though. I guess it just takes all kinds to make a world, or even a neighborhood. Rick, Dick and Chick. You can't make this stuff up."

Stumble It!

He said: "She was the IT girl or her generation: cool, together, with a promise of something much more personal. She could be spotted almost anywhere. It didn't seem possible to be in so many places at the same time, but she pulled it off somehow. You could see her at her best and at her worst at any grocery store check-out line. She would generally be the lead story; how so-and-so spent the night at her beach side retreat; how she was seen being carried out, drunk or drugged, from this or that late-night club; how she was now in rehab; how she was now out of rehab. Then there was the marriage, followed by the divorce, the fall down the stairs, the movie deal that didn't happen, etc. etc. You know the drill. It's amazingly consistent with all of the "IT" girls. The story is always the same. Why do you think that is?"

Stumble It!

She said: "I guess we were just too busy. I know that's a lousy excuse, but it's the only I have. There was always so much to do in a day: shopping, cooking, cleaning, the job, the second job, the bills to pay, the calls to make and answer, the texts, faxes, tweets, emails, all the crap that takes over a day, a week, a month, a life. We just didn't notice how sick he was. We thought that it was "growing pains" or something. We thought it was a phase, but it wasn't. He died in my arms on the way to the hospital. Just like that. Gone. Forever. There was just too much to do and we didn't notice. There was just too much."

Stumble It!

He said: "The new elite doesn't talk or text while in motion. The new elite doesn't have to. The new elite doesn't carry a phone or an iPod or a Blackberry. The new elite doesn't need to be or have a friend on facebook. The new elite consumes less, worries less, craves less, yet accomplishes more. The new elite understands the balance, the very delicate balance that we must learn to survive. The new elite takes over were the consumer elite collapsed. The new law is to be quietly visible, confident, generous and rich in ways that matter. The new elite is here to take back what is ours."

Stumble It!

She said: "I guess, for guys, it's either blue jeans or nothing. Sometimes nothing is OK, but I get a little tired of the blue jeans. Maybe guys really have blue genes, ha ha, and that's why they like their denim so much. I mean, I have lots of choices of what to wear, but the guys only seem to have one choice: Blue jeans. Blue jeans to the movies, blue jeans to eat out, blue jeans for the wedding. Oh my God, that's my worst nightmare, that he will show up for the wedding in denim. I'd die! I'd take one look and die! In that case, if given a choice, I will take "nothing". He's got a nice body. There are worse things than having a naked husband, I guess."

Stumble It!

He said: "Things just happen. That's just the way that it is now: you can't predict anything. Everything is so random. Boom!: Someone is killed over here for no reason. Boom!: This building catches on fire and burns down in the middle of the night. Bang! it's a shooting, a car crash, Flu! Its just always something and that something seems like it is aimed just at you, for no reason in particular. Maybe you're just the one in the way and since it can't go around you, it plows you under, just like that. It just can't be predicted at all. You just have to keep your eyes open all of the time, because, you know, you never know!"

Stumble It!

She said: "She was our angel, our very own angel. She brought good luck to the house and kept evil things away from it. I remember hearing about "our angel" since I was little and I saw her often enough to have it be just some ordinary thing in our family. I though everyone had an angel in their house to protect them. For me, it was an ordinary thing. I loved her because she was so quiet, even on the marble floors, which made a lot of noise some time, like when you were wearing high healed shoes. The house made a lot of noise sometime, but the angel never made any that I can think of. It was good to have an angel while I was growing up. Goodness knows that it was a special thing. Goodness knows why they aren't more common. Goodness knows."

Stumble It!

He said: "I feel like I'm forgetting something, but I don't know what that is. I can almost make out what is trying to get my attention, and then, poof, it's gone. It's kinda like an itch that you can't scratch because it is in a place that you can't reach with your hands. It is very annoying, you know. An itch that you can't scratch and a something that you can't conger. I just hope it isn't something important that I'm forgetting; some life threatening, or something that I promised someone I would do for them. I hope it isn't about not turning the gas burner down."

Stumble It!

He said: "I am a metaphor. That is, I am something other than what I am. I am that thing which you struggle to understand; I am the currents that swirl around you and the wind that brushed against your back. I am the stand-in; the thing that is waiting for you to remember; the taste that remembers your mouth. I am the seasons that change each day and I am the things that fall away and perish, become something new again. I am the walk in the woods."

Stumble It!

He said: "Artists know things; all kind of things that other people don't even think about. I don't know how artists know what they know, but I do know that it is a knowledge that is different from you or me. They know secrets that they will only sometimes want to share and they know things that are forbidden to be known. They know how things connect with other things and they how how to turn on or turn off certain areas of a person's brain. They know about timing. They know about shape and shadow and how to confuse you or how to make you stop what you are doing and attend. They know special things. That's what makes them artists.

Stumble It!

She said: "He lied to us. Everything he said was a lie, like he was not able for some reason to tell the truth. He lied about the money; he lied about the women and the men; he lied about almost every aspect of his life and we I believed him. How could I have been so stupid? I was in love, I guess. I trusted him because I was in love with him. He took my breathe away. I guess you'd have to say that he took my brain away too. I can't believe now dumb I was. I just can't believe it. I hope they find him and after they find him I hope they put him away in some place where he will never see the light of day again; somewhere where he'll never be able to hurt someone again like he hurt me."

Stumble It!

She said: "They lied to us. Right from the very beginning, they lied to us. They said we would only be fighting the war for a short time, just a cleanup really, nothing that wouldn't take a week or two, tops. We've been here now for years with no end in site. They lied then, and they lie now. It seems that that's all they can do. Of course, the ones telling the lies are not anywhere near here. They are in another country, in fact. They are safe. Their family is safe. It's just a job to them. Why should they give a F**k about us here; about us rotting here in the hell hole? In this stinking place where there is never peace, never a time to relax with family and forget about the war over there and the people who's job it is to fight the war over here, year after year after year."

Stumble It!