"The sky is ThisBig right now," declared my neighbor John as he spread his arms wide. Three of us were lying on the asphalt of my street Sunday morning, pure and simple sunshine bolstering a pretty tenuous acquaintance. (Don't worry, I it's a cul-de-sac.) I'd pretty much finished loading the car and was stalling for time until Betsy came back from church; they'd been puttering in their front yard.

"In New York, this sky's ThatSize." Here came a pinching of two fingers as Gannon squinted at Helios. If I'm really lucky, it won't even be covered up by floating pigeon feathers.