I’m not sure how Jason got it into his head that I needed to shoot a gun. I know that he’s not the only person in my life who assumed I would enjoy such a thing. Chris Huff, a weapons expert, has wanted to take me to a shooting range for years. It’s only his wise wife, Allison, who has insisted that would be a bad idea. “First of all, she’ll be holding that gun sideways in five minutes, acting like she’s tearing up the joint.” Continue reading
Sage, the smartest dog in the universe, the one who helped my sister survive high school, nursed my dad through chemo and radiation, and helped my mom with both her empty nest syndrome and finding her footing after Dad died, was put down yesterday after sixteen long, wonderful years of life. Sage understood an incredible amount of conversational English and — somehow — Christmas, always opening her present when it was her turn, parading the new toy in a boastful prance before adding it to her seemingly endless collection.
She made it through yet another move into a new house, the one that’s been in my family for decades, where my father grew up. I think she got there, felt the memory of my dad in the walls and floorboards, and knew she’d finally gotten my family to a safe place. That’s when her legs gave out, legs that have had more torn ACL’s than an athlete.
My mom told me the words she whispered into Sage’s ear as she fell asleep for the last time were, “Go find Daddy.” I really can’t think of that without bursting into tears, every single time.
Goodbye, Sage. Wise old Sage. You were never just a dog.
I have blown my voice out a number of times singing this song at the top of my lungs. It was in a sketch we did for about a year, where I was pleading through song to stop a break-up in the front seat of a car. It was the only sketch I wrote that my troupe did for a length of time.
If you had walked into my bedroom any night of my high school years, there was a 85% chance you were going to hear this album playing. I would often turn it on to mask the fact that I was on the phone, hiding under the covers, in the dark. The opening notes of this song still remind me of staring at the ceiling of my bedroom, tears in my eyes, my fingers tangled in phone cord, as I yearned to be wherever it was the person holding the other end of the line was standing.
My thoughts are with those dealing with Katrina. I used to live in Hinds County, Mississippi, and I know what it’s like to wait out a storm, wondering at what point you have to evacuate.
When I get to work in the morning, there’s usually the latest draft of that week’s script on the floor just outside my office. Balancing my gym bag, my purse, my computer bag and a cup of coffee, I bend over to pick it up. Only today I noticed that when I stood back up, script in hand, I involuntarily groaned. Because of my knees. I don’t like this recent development in my life. I’m going to pretend it’s because I’ve been very good at going to the gym in the mornings, and not because it’s another fun-fact of turning thirty. I got carded last night. And three times last week. Clearly I am no longer talking to you, just reassuring myself. And that’s… okay. Continue reading
If most of the men in my life have one thing in common, it’s a fear of spiders. I don’t mean the kind of ickiness where you know there’s something weird and it freaks you out — like one man who had a fear of birds. This I came to understand. The eyes. They’re dead. You never know what a bird is thinking, and at any point, that bird might decide your eye is the most delicious thing it’s ever seen. Okay, so that man convinced me to be afraid of birds. I get it. Done. Birds are scary. Continue reading
I had only driven through Palm Springs once, since I left it twenty years ago, and that was when I was moving to Los Angeles, the Meat of Cheese sitting by my side. I remember feeling nervous as I drove through it, and I called home to tell Dad I was driving though the place that changed my family for good. Continue reading
Whenever I had to change schools as a kid, I’d always get really sick on the first day of school. It was always stomach related, and made me feel like I was going to throw up from sadness. In fact, I’d be so sad I could actually start heaving. It meant I almost always missed the second day of school at the new school. I just couldn’t handle going back to the new school on the second day, being at the unfamiliar place once again, trying to make friends. Continue reading
I can just go to the coffee shop as usual and work on my computer but now I get free internet access just because my computer has airport? Seriously, why didn’t anybody tell me about this sooner?
Updates for those of you who have been emailing: Mom’s doing okay post-surgery. Her finger should be healed in about six weeks.
The piano didn’t fit in the house so we have a foster home for it right now.
I’m going to pretend I don’t know I could just sit here and surf instead of writing for the next three hours.