"Pick a hand,"  he says.  He holds two fists outstretched before him, the third time he's done this in as many weeks. "What are you doing?" I ask him, "It's not my birthday yet!" "It's a Valentine," he says. "It's not Valentine's Day yet either!" I laugh. "Pre-Valentine's then!  Pick a hand!" And I laugh again because this is also the third time we've had this same conversation in as many weeks. Obligingly, I pick a hand.