Strangely, the whole thing just doesn't compute. But there is a reason. The principal of my daughter's school was running the marathon today. We have received confirmation that he and his family are safe. But I have no idea what, if anything, they're telling the children at school. And, strangely, this event actually recategorizes my daughter and me. It's not a traumatic reclassification by any means, but, rather, a curious one. The good doctor is officially the first person of my specific acquaintance to have been so close to a terrorist strike during the period of our association. Wow. I beg your pardon, of course, if I do not find this transition in any specific or general way encouraging. The best I can do is shrug, file it away as a factoid, and disregard that particular parameter as a habit of minimally crafted apathy. Condolences, of course, to the victims. Our love to Boston, as well. Your response is encouraging to the distant eye. The world sees, and knows you're not frightened but well and appropriately pissed off. Go get 'em.