It came today. My heart fluttered one time each month this last year when I opened the mailbox and saw evidence of my impulse buy. On a whim, just because I wanted to. Not necessary. Not justifiable. It's the only magazine I subscribe to, even then only every other year or two. So when it arrived today, wrapped in plastic with the warning printed on a thick insert sheet, in Arial Black, "This is your LAST ISSUE!" my shoulders drooped just a little bit walking back up the front walk. As I broke the plastic and unwrapped the treasure I promised myself I would enjoy this last little indulgence in a very hot, soapy bath. Children climbing on a daddy who has fallen asleep on the couch while I've locked myself in the bathroom. And when I'm done, satisfied that savored each page, it will sit in the front of the basket that holds the other eleven inspiring issues. A little bit of organizational eye candy for when my world feels like it's spinning recklessly like a top that is about to propel itself off the table.