Apparently, my life is terrible. During a recent visit, my mother starting crying during one of our meals, as if my life saddens her. Clearly, we have different agendas.
She said, "Doesn't it make you sad?"
I said, "Doesn't what make me sad?"
She said, "Everything...doesn't this all get to you?"
I feel like any day is a good day, if I'm not so down and out that I'm wearing flattened waterbottles strapped to my feet as shoes.
Her day is bad if Starbucks messes up her latte.
My husband and I were having an intense and profound conversation about the consequences of substituting the word SHMOO for the words "...
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This is what Seattle looks like in January. Originally posted 01/13/14