I posted this to Twitter, so if you follow me there, there’s nothing to see here.

I’m in Florida visiting my parents and traveling, hence the irregularity of my blog posts. I’m also trying to catch up on academic reading but have somehow been sucked into Robert Coover’s Gerald’s Party which is as much archaeological as it is other things.

In any event, my post today is a story:

This morning after my dad and I both took our blood pressure, he recorded it on a sheet of paper (and I started the complex process of trying to forget mine!).

We talked about how, when we were kids, my parents recorded our heights (and the heights of various relatives) on the wall in our kitchen. Now as adults, we record our blood pressure on forms. Seems like a good metaphor for something. Maybe adulthood.

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