fin and fin

BFF Chris: [after he read this post] In that scenario, am I the cinnamon or the sugar?

Me: BITCH YOU THE PAPRIKA

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Didn't win (came in third of nine finalists I think), but one of my IG pics was a finalist in an @igersLA contest! So not a big deal! So totally silly of me to be this excited! So entering the next contest, too!




































Does anyone know a marine fluffologist? It appears Hannah might need some reconstructive surgery, maybe even a full finectomy. 














Meanwhile, Celia surrendered the last of her guts marshmallow filling a few days ago, documented in a short series I like to call "Sit Ups Are Boring, Mom. Let's Disembowel Christmas Presents":




Looks like someone is trying to speed up his acquisition of a certain mythical winged horse.

---

Something I remembered just now, taking the pic of Chaucer's toy:

When my dad was dying, my friend Mason was pretty much on call for me, talking me through logistics, advising, supporting (his dad had died of cancer not long before mine was diagnosed with it).

Anyway, the final days of hospice were brutal. Just...waiting. And the unavoidable melodrama of that waiting - it's so awful. When it finally happened, all I could think to say when I texted him was just one word: fin.

His reply was one word, too: triste. 

It was a strangely perfect and beautiful exchange, because it said everything so simply and completely, without the clumsy baggage of well-intentioned but useless words cluttering up the moment. There's no comfort to be had at that moment, and it was nice to let one another off the hook of trying to give or receive it.

- End.
- Sad. 

I was grateful for it.