A Night With Dad


I was making a mental list of reoccurring life struggles. Now, I will brain dump them here.

1. Buying anything other than food for my aging, blind, diabetic rabbit. You know how if you buy a snow shovel it won’t snow? If I buy Thumper a new cage, he will die. I’ve had this struggle for about three years.

2. Maintaining a nighttime routine. I’ve been on a new kick to not look so old and tired. I bought expensive eye cream and plan to wash my face and brush my teeth before bed. This will only last another week, tops.

3. Shedding. I am honestly flabbergasted that I even still have hair on my head. Every day I am fighting with the amount of hair that has escaped from my body. This may be more of a struggle for Patrick as well, since he will literally call me in the bathroom to clean the drain before he showers. It’s not like I strategically placed a wig there…gravity happens.

4. Chocolate cravings. Is there a rehab for chocolate? Can someone give me their number? Cause even when I try to go paleo, Patrick knows to have the freezer stocked with coconut milk ice cream or a bag of dark chocolate in the closet, or he should just not come home. Crack is whack, unless that crack is chocolate.


Be Great.

He opened the door for me himself. As we said good-bye, he put his fingers lightly under my chin and lifted my head up so that my eyes met his.

“Little girl,” he said earnestly, “keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great.”

Missing ‘Nam

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Vietnam was a really tough period in my life. Not just because I felt alone but more because I felt disappointed in how so many things had panned out for me at the time that I boarded the plane at JFK.

Now I miss being there. Everything was so simple, yet so complex. I miss the vegetarian place across the street. I miss riding on the back of motorbikes. I miss the people that I met abroad. I wrote in a journal every single day, and I wrote just for me.