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I’ll doodle on anything. Last night’s victims were cocktail napkins, and the metaphorically-blunt instrument was a Sharpie marker:

Cocktail napkins make such good doodle victims. The fibers of the paper are delicate, forcing the attacking artist to gently wield the drawing tool, and they bleed so obligingly that they also force the artist to work in ever so swift strokes.

On June 21, Deborah commented:

Is there anything you can not do? Why do you have the guts to try new things and I only think them. When you did a mask for me three years ago, I thought you were a man. I would like to remember why I made that mistake, but probably because you were and still are so gutsy. I have two girls, your thinking goes in different directions and should not. thanks so much for being great and know that you are.

And I’ve been pondering on her comment quite a bit, since then. And I am humbled by it, in being reminded of this embarrassment of riches. An-nnnd I gotta say that I really don’t know how to react or respond to her remark that she’d thought I was a man.

Yeah, there’s plenty that I can’t do. Peeing — without making a mess — while standing, immediately comes to mind.

But I’ll never know what I can do until I make the effort, and take that risk.