While driving to work this morning, I had the country station on. And I got thinking that I had programmed the station partially as a nod to my brother, who likes country and line-dancing and boots, the whole works. As I was realizing this, the song with the line "It was nineteen, eighty somethin" was playing. And then I started thinking about growing up with my brother in the eighties. How he loved the "scuzz cut" hair style that he now has to wear as a Marine, how he loved to gross me out on any occasion with fake spiders and such. And I had to fight like mad to keep the tears from running my mascara. I miss my baby bro. I hate thinking about where he is in the world. Mom's got his new address, so I can write him and hope he gets a chance to write back. And I think I'll start sending him snippets of my book for him to read while he stands watch or whatever it is they have those guys doing until the inevitable war order is given. I think he might get a kick out of that.