OH MY GOD LOOK AT YOUR DELICIOUS LITTLE FACE. I JUST WANT TO EAT IT WITH MY OWN FACE.
THIS IS WHY I DON’T COME TO VISIT MORE OFTEN, GRANDMA.
O SHT UP. UH JST LUHN YR FCCCCCE.
I AM GOING TO PUT YOU IN A RETIREMENT HOME SO HARD AND SO FAST THEY’LL HAVE TO DIG YOU OUT OF THE BASEMENT TO FEED YOU.
WHERE THE HELL DID I LEAVE MY KEYS?
WHY CAN’T I EVER REMEMBER ANYTHING? IS IT FROM MARIJUANA ABUSE IN MY WAYWARD ADOLESCENCE? I KNOW THEY SAY THE EFFECTS DON’T SET IN UNTIL LATER IN LIFE, SO IT’S POSSIBLE. IT’S NOT LIKE I DID IT THAT MUCH THOUGH. JUST AT PARTIES AND ON WEEKENDS, MOSTLY WITH …
DAMN, WHAT WAS THAT GUY’S NAME? THE ONE WITH THE REALLY LONG THORAX THAT USED TO ALWAYS CALL ME …
SHIT, WHAT DID HE USED TO CALL ME? IT WAS SOME KIND OF PUN, RIGHT?
WHATEVER. I’LL REMEMBER IT LATER.
… WHAT DID I DO WITH MY KEYS?
So…I lost my keys the other morning…in the house…for the first time ever. And, I didn’t smoke pot. Really. Thankfully, my daughter found them for me, but not until after I had a slight panic attack.
I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT KIND OF CAKE YOU WANTED SO I GOT YOU MEATBALLS.
THERE ISN’T ANY SAUCE BECAUSE THE CAN OPENER IS BROKEN.
I have sometimes been that kind of mother. Hilarious.
OH, I KNOW. BUT YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE, RIGHT? SO AS SOON AS THE KIDS GRADUATED I SOLD THE HOUSE AND THAT GODAWFUL VAN AND NEVER LOOKED BACK. NOW IT’S JUST CABANA BOYS AND MIMOSAS ALL DAY AND ALL NIGHT.
WELL, MIMOSAS ALL DAY, CABANA BOYS ALL NIGHT IF YOU WANT TO GET TECHNICAL, BUT IT ALL BLENDS TOGETHER AFTER A WHILE.
Loneliness is black coffee and late-night television; solitude is herb tea and soft music. Solitude, quality solitude, is an assertion of self-worth, because only in the stillness can we hear the truth of our own unique voices.
Excellent definitions. And both so very true.
That feeling you get when your alarm clock goes off and you’re not sure why you should get out of bed because you know nothing’s going to be more comfortable than your bed is, so like what’s the point?
This is how I feel almost every morning because I sleep with the best snuggler in the world. And also? I love to procrastinate.
HOW’S YOUR HANGOVER? IS IT BAD? IT LOOKS BAD! YOU’LL HAVE TO SPEAK UP WHEN YOU ANSWER ME BECAUSE I HAVE AN EAR INFECTION THAT MAKES IT REALLY HARD TO HEAR! THAT’S WHY I’VE BEEN LISTENING TO THOSE EARLY ‘90S HAPPY HARDCORE EXTENDED CLUB MIXES ALL MORNING! WHEN THE VOLUME’S UP ALL THE WAY I CAN REALLY FEEL THE BASS! CAN YOU? CAN YOU FEEL THAT BASS?
DO YOU WANT SOME TEA OR SOMETHING? JUST LET ME KNOW!
This might be me…occasionally…if I know my big kids are not feeling quite up to par.
We fall in love.
i don’t know what it is about this but it made my chest feel a little tight
This is the story of my life. And I love it. Thanks, Whit, for finding and sharing.
When my husband died, because he was so famous and known for not being a believer, many people would come up to me-it still sometimes happens-and ask me if Carl changed at the end and converted to a belief in an afterlife. They also frequently ask me if I think I will see him again. Carl faced his death with unflagging courage and never sought refuge in illusions. The tragedy was that we knew we would never see each other again. I don’t ever expect to be reunited with Carl. But, the great thing is that when we were together, for nearly twenty years, we lived with a vivid appreciation of how brief and precious life is. We never trivialized the meaning of death by pretending it was anything other than a final parting. Every single moment that we were alive and we were together was miraculous-not miraculous in the sense of inexplicable or supernatural. We knew we were beneficiaries of chance… . That pure chance could be so generous and so kind… . That we could find each other, as Carl wrote so beautifully in Cosmos, you know, in the vastness of space and the immensity of time… . That we could be together for twenty years. That is something which sustains me and it’s much more meaningful… . The way he treated me and the way I treated him, the way we took care of each other and our family, while he lived. That is so much more important than the idea I will see him someday. I don’t think I’ll ever see Carl again. But I saw him. We saw each other. We found each other in the cosmos, and that was wonderful.
Ann Druyan, Carl Sagan’s wife
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