My mother, regular reader, has pointed out to me that my first airplane flight was actually to Philadelphia. I was four months old at the time. I didn't count it due to my not remembering it, and because I was made to fly as luggage.

My earliest memory? I was two, sitting by the Christmas tree, ripping the hair out of my teddy bear Brownie with my teeth.

And then there was the big bee and the mud puddle.

Good times, good times.