There were worse sins that could get tallied, and we had no desire to attract attention to them.
Nothing is ever truly lost.
Not being one to hold my feeling in, I shared my opinions. At my favorite drinking establishment, the wise heads of the Harvard Gardens sagely nodded their heads in agreement.
I spent about nine years all told working in Operating Rooms, and a substantial bit of my education money came from working there. It was by turns the friendliest, and most stressful environment I have ever worked in.
My black cat, Smidgen, was sitting purring in my lap. Once in a while, it was her habit to correct my take on life by sharing feline wisdom tidbits, black double pawed cats specifically. The formula followed was usually a reminder that her Ancestors had been gods in Eygpt.
When I lived on or traveled to coastal Maine in the seventies, I was tied closely to my wife's home town by bonds created by that marriage. Back at the university, I was for studying for a career in anthropology. In Maine, I was understudying for the Cap'n on board his 34 foot ketch, being introduced as his son, and learning how to fit in.
A twelve-step program for compulsive tool buyers might help. But I have a thing about being away from my tools for meetings. Just taking the time to write this keeps me away from browsing the Lee Valley site, not to mention Rockler, Woodcraft, and Highland Woodworking.
It's been decades. But every time I visit Portland, it's inevitable that I'll think about those cookies. Losing a good friend is always hard, but losing a great molasses cookie. That's tragic.
"Lo, how the mighty have fallen."
A shop with all the tools neatly racked, and no chips are like a clean desk—a sign of a sick mind.