it's a convoluted mess
December. Right then. Wednesday morning after Bob went downstairs to work, I went back to sleep. Like I do. Approximately two hours later, I was ripped from sleep by the loudest fucking alarm I have ever heard in my life. At first I thought it was an Amber Alert on my phone, but I quickly realized that was not the case. It took a few more seconds for my head to clear enough to realize… Keep reading…Beyond control…
Two years. Two full years since Joe died. It still sounds like some fucking bullshit. He shows up in my dreams every so often. I see him, and I know he’s not supposed to be there, but everyone else acts like it’s completely normal. I spend the entire time stressed out because even if he is supposed to be there at that moment, I know it won’t be long before he’s gone again. I wake… Keep reading…Two Years.
Happy Halloween? It certainly wasn’t The Halloween Blizzard of 1991 (TM), but Minnesota was still very Minnesota-y for the occasion. Pouring rain that turned into snow that turned into slush. Slush everywhere. State Patrol reported 169 accidents between midnight and 2PM. Because people forget that they have lived in Minnesota their entire lives and cannot remember how to fucking drive the first time it snows for the season. The camera was far more interested in… Keep reading…One stop short…
October. The forecast is toying with my emotions. 65 | 80 | 67 | 70 | 81 | 65 | 69 | 77 | 80 | 82 | 79 So on. So forth. We’re also under a Critical Fire Weather Watch because we haven’t had any rain. Meanwhile the south east section of the country is drowning. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Anyway. I did a thing. What is it? It’s a bag of hair. Kinda… Keep reading…Amidst the broad daylight…
Fifteen is the crystal anniversary. Or a watch. Neither of which either of us needs. Instead we’re taking a four-day weekend with wild plans to play Final Fantasy XVI (or Bob plays, Sara watches the story) while stuffing ourselves with takeout Mexican food. He is still my favorite, across all categories. Pablo Picasso Matt Nathanson