You know I like to ask questions, lots of them. Granted, most of the ones that are blurted out, seeming like they're just a few synapses away from brain to mouth, are usually the conversation-ending kind. There are other ones though, the ones that don't get much play. In fairness, these also usually seem to come from far left field (and often are so broad) that once they've struck you, you simply don't know where to start. Or, which is more likely, they beg for more specific questions. But, unlike the others, they at least seem to be one step up on the rungs of the legitimate questions ladder. Like the other day, I spent a while a work wondering about if it's ever a drag that I'm not an artist - not in the ways that you and your friends are - okay, not really at all. I never get any of the references you make. I barely (now) know the names of all of the artists whose work you follow, or artists you know personally. I had no idea what polymer clay was, or French paper, or loads of other things before I met you. About the only thing it seems I can bring to the table in this regard is my knowledge of office supplies. Lately, I've been getting back to not knowing to what table I do bring things. Selling stuff on eBay? Check.