My alarm clock had gone off and I had already hit snooze once this morning when I heard Jesse stirring in his bed. I could hear him sniffing. Hmmm, I thought. Jesse hasn't had a nose bleed in a long time. No sooner had I thought it than Jesse was shuffling into my bedroom with his hand over his face. "Hey, baby. Got a nosebleed?" He nodded his head. I told him to go into the bathroom. For some reason I was only wearing one sock, and I had to find the other before following him. I know what caused it. Jesse has been playing around the vent in the living room the last few days. I told him yesterday that he didn't need to be hanging around all that dry, warm air because it would make him sick. Sure enough: nose bleed.

Being married to an artist rubs off on you in the same way that living with a journalist will prompt you to suggest story ideas now and again. Out of the blue I will come up with an idea for a piece for SkooterPie. I once suggested that he do a piece called "Remnants of a childhood." The piece would consist of leftovers from events in a child's life. They would be displayed on pedastals under glass cases. The leftovers could be anything: the tissues used to stop a nosebleed, the bits and pieces of paper leftover from making paper snowflakes, a pile of hair clippings from every haircut, a bandaid, bits of cereal crumbs. Stuff that I would normally sweep up or throw away. I'm sure it's already been done.