It can't just be me: that's wicked creepy, isn't it? Someone else, please, say yes. So as it turns out I am not that great of a juggler. I sort of figured as much when---upon considering subsequent education after graduating high school---I immediately struck off clown college. Not only couldn't I juggle but I really can't stand clowns. It's not fear, it's something else. I get to see a lot of clowns as a parent and every time, I think they sense my whatever-it-is feeling that is a lot short of "YEA! a CLOWN! Woo hoo! I LOVE clowns! They're so FUN!" I don't like them and they know it. They smell it or see it in my eyes, no matter how jovial or polite an act I put on. Patience is the same, I think. I can see it in her eyes. I hope no boyfriend ever takes her to the circus. One time I was dating this guy and he planned what should have been---would have been for any other woman---a fabulous date: the circus. I was horrified. Seriously. Trapp...