Folks,

Devastating loss today on the 18th hole at Coxmoor. This was a good course, though, in Nottinghamshire (the home of Robin Hood; I think I hit a wayward drive almost into Sherwood Forest). I’ve lost a couple of tight matches in golf that I should have won. Getting mentally more tough.

Tonight, I had dinner at my friend Marc’s house. The Sunday Night dinner there has become somewhat of a weekly tradition. I am a big believer in weekly rituals–Wednesday night LOST in Charlottesville, Friday morning breakfast at the Tavern, Sunday night barbecue chicken pizza and Blue Moon in the glory days of Georgia summer ‘06–they structure and give definition to our lives, and certain times of our lives.

Many thanks to my friend Jay from high school, who is now living in London and has given my research question much better definition by posting a response to my research questions. You can read it on the “Opening the Candy Store” post, if you are interested (and chances are, you may not be)…he says it much better than I do. The exchange of ideas here is crucial.

Speaking of time passing, today is my birthday. In the words of Langdon Quin, I join the ranks of Father Time as I hit 23 years old. And in the words of my favorite philosopher Meghan Sullivan, this is the last time for six years that my age will be a prime number. So I am going to try to make the best of it. I like birthdays. I like using my birthday as an excuse to get all my friends, from different circles, together. It makes me thankful for my friends, and it also leads to the one real time of the year where my worlds collide all at once. (We all have different circles of friends, and they rarely cross paths…it’s a really weird and very fulfilling thing when they cross paths). So, to all of my friends who CAN’T be here in Oxford to cross paths with me today, thanks for all you bring to me, and all the best.