Hashtag my wrinkly face skin.
How many retirees does it take to turn on a food processor?
Hint: More than two.
This dude is adorable even when he's disgusting.
Remember that Christmas when I was lying on my sister's living room floor after brunch minding my own business and my Aunt Patti walked in and started kicking my ass in front of my whole family for no apparent reason and my life partner Bevan just sat there laughing and taking pictures?
Oh right, that was this Christmas.
Happy b-day, Jesus.
First of all, after a full day of riding in cars and on trains we are finally on an airplane that will (hopefully) deliver us safely from O'Hare to San José.
And secondly, as I walked aboard this aircraft a few minutes ago holding a clear plastic cup of red wine from a bar in the airport food court the flight attendant manning the airplane door asked "Is that red wine?" and I responded "Uh huh." and then she said "I didn't think airports were allowed to do that." and then I said absolutely nothing because I was busy guzzling my plastic cup of red wine before she could take it away from me.
Bevan and I just climbed under the covers of the pullout sofa bed in my dad's spare room for the last time until spring and as I get ready to return to my life and my routine tomorrow I can't stop thinking about two things that have been on my mind almost constantly since I arrived home last week:
- I'm a very lucky person.
- My life is passing by faster than I can get a grip on and it'll probably be that way until I'm dead and I have to find a way to be okay with that.