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“Is this supposed to press down on my nose so much,” I asked Ryan, the trainer administering my metabolic and VO2 max test. “Yeah, it needs to be snug enough so air doesn’t get in through the sides,” he explained, adjusting the straps and checking the seal of the mask.
Maybe it's my imagination, but I've begun to notice this weird phenomenon in my editing work. If I start working on an interesting story, or I get into researching a new topic, I'll often have some sort of direct personal experience with the subject matter. Some of these serendipitous encounters are quite pleasant. Others, not so much.
For the past few months, my neighborhood has been slowly filling with signs. Lawn signs, mostly – signs about war and peace, signs rallying support for different points of view. One morning last week, I went out for my morning run and noticed that all the signs belonging to one camp had disappeared. Overnight, I presume, one side took down the other side's signs – an effort that would have required both trespassing and stealing.
In the game of Scrabble, there’s a very handy rule that allows you to exchange some (or even all) of your letter tiles for brand new ones. In my experience, this rule is chronically underemployed. People often forget about it altogether – until they find themselves looking at the board and their available letters, and discovering that about all they can spell is plfhxt.
When I was a kid, my mom referred to me affectionately as her "worry wart." This was because, from a very early age, I fretted and worried myself silly over just about everything, from whether my toddler tights were on straight, to whether or not other kids would like me, to whether I would grow up to be the sort of adult I imagined I was supposed to be.
A magazine is always delighted to hear from its readers - even with constructive criticism and gripes. But of course, we especially love hearing when we are doing something right, and when we asked you to tell us what you thought of the past few issues, many of you were kind enough to write and tell us just that.
Watching the news on DEC. 13, I caught the panic piece about American obesity. At last, it’s an official crisis - announced by the Surgeon General and broadcast from the same sort of press room that usually issues sober reports about war, terrorism and global warming.