it may come as a surprise to the reader that there is, indeed, a mrs leibniz. i, of course, am not offended by your surprise; in the words of last night's democratic challenger, i am one of the "lucky people who married up."

as is want to happen, mrs leibniz greatly enjoys the rather arduous tedium known popularly as "scrapbooking," and it was upon that very topic that our conversation recently fell. it seems that a friend of the mrs, a fellow enthusiast, has taken up an employment of sorts by providing a complete scrapbooking service; that is to say, she produces an entire book for another family.

this notion strikes me rather obliquely.

i, for one, prefer to record the events of one's life with elegant simplicity. photographs are best displayed plainly, without distraction, allowing the images to softly speak of memories. no colored patterns are required, nor ribbons, beads, or any manner of decorative charm. the mrs tastefully differs in opinion, and with deference i gladly support her. after all, they are her memories, too; i feel grateful to have played a role which she finds worthy of recall.

i find, however, the notion of one creatively producing the record of another's memories a bit unsettling. it occurs to me that historians are often engaged similarly; they produce records of the past, sorting and sifting for relevance, highlighting and framing events. still, those records are for the consumption of those other than the subjects of said history. the preservation of memories is distinctly different. no one else can share the reminiscence held upon the page - why would i allow another to sort them, directing their presentation for my benefit?

the answer, of course, is that i shan't. the mrs has got that taken care of, thanks.