"It is genuine Pilsner from Bohemia! It has expelled the sugar from my blood!"
--James Gibbons Huneker (1860-1921), letter to H.L. Mencken

I am feeling considerably better today, though it has taken me a full twenty-four hours to achieve this equilibrium. (American) Pilsener from Utica is part of the reason, but also I bask in the afterglow of a happy deed. It is akin to the feeling of reprieving a condemned mutt from being "put to sleep" at the dog pound--I saved a 100-year-old Oliver #3 typewriter from being made into costume jewelry. I had been watching the auction all week on e-bay, and when I noticed that the only bid on the poor old beast was from the bracelet person (who--I can scarcely bear to type this--tears apart vintage machines, turning the keys into "fashion statements"), I jumped in with my nominal offer--and WON. So, I'm going to be getting a nice big package from Iowa next week with my treasure in it (shipping wasn't THAT bad)--there is no such thing as an "unwanted" typewriter at the Utica "Bide-a-Wee" Home for Aged Office Equipment.