Alice – my mother’s name, mine and my daughter’s (she’s an “Allie”). Husband Phil shot the moose and made a crack about keeping his rack up as long as I keep mine up, too. My rack’s doing nicely, thank you, and Allie’s got my good genes. The little ones stand at attention longer, I told her when she cried after puberty got done with her and she ended up with what she called my lousy chest. Relax, Allie: we’re not selling the land, just the dead stuff dad liked to keep around. I’m not dealing with dead stuff anymore. And I’ll mow the lawn this summer. Go out. You need to have some fun.