My teeth are going to start hurting soon from smiling so much. There is a conga line of congratulations going out my office door. Today, I can finally make the official announcement: I have been awarded a sabbatical from my job. The reason for asking for this is very specific. I am spending three months in California, trying to find out if two people who are equally made of teeth and spine and guts and eyeballs and big thinky brains can stand to get closer than three time zones. Can, in fact, do more than that. Can make boats out of flowers, invent new landscapes, chart invisible rivers, and things I can't even imagine to begin to know. I am not so foolish as to not be frightened, but it is the kind of thrilling fear I think you would feel, about to step out of an airplane at 13,000 feet, and knowing your parachute is well packed.