I didn’t keep a journal

  He is 33 tomorrow.  A good age, waist deep into exploring, into being.  Old enough to understand his strengths and weaknesses.  Old enough to have a wife.  Old enough for his style to freeze (hipster professor).  (Mostly just professor, but I like to watch his face when he reads these.)  Old enough to know... Continue Reading →

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On 30

I have been thirty for three months now, and while it has highlighted and heightened some of my existential flailing, it has also been somewhat unmomentous.  I fuzzily remember the end of my first decade, turning 10 -- double digits! No more need to spell out my age, can use numerals!  (Thanks AP stylebook).  And... Continue Reading →

This thing called love

We go to sleep at different times.  It's one of those things that isn't mentioned much in couple's advice  -- everyone is too worried about love languages and the correct way to apologize, and nobody mentions bedtime/wake times.  He is night boy and I am day girl. I am a zombie horror show if I don't... Continue Reading →

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