there’s a weird in the air.

like the undeniable, artificial, white sugary scent of halloween candy, pitchforking all senses as i skulk up and down the aisles of my local, big-chained grocery store, white knuckling purchases of pepsi, cheetos, and other ALS-unfriendly buys on her list; there’s a distinct waft of bizarre and unwise permeating my world.


do you have a weight window?

you know like a pocket of pounds you allow yourself, both up and down, where either your baggy, loose-fitting, billowy shifts start constrict scuba suit-like, or your skinny, leather pants get so slack you start toting baby kangaroos around in them?

i allow a very altruistic window. in the last three months it’s become more like a double-set of wide, ceiling to floor, french doors.

and i give myself permission to adjust. it’s the accommodating, wanting to be liked, please-don’t-talk-shit-about-me-behind-my back-but-if-you-do-i’ll-still-love-you, nature within me.

all this much to the dismay of my matron of honor dress that needs to fit by october 27th.

my solution to a smaller waist has been a diet brimming full of chocolate covered macadamia nuts and steve’s brooklyn blackout ice cream.

i’m surprised it’s not working too!?


thank you raquel for letting me know i’m no longer a “maid of honor,” but the aforementioned “matron;” as if i didn’t already feel betty white status with my newly acquired night sweats: a pajama & sheet-changing, 2am occurrence that “puzzles” my doctor and does not turn my husband on.


i’m now going on my fourth night of sleep where i dream this cat is mine.

mine, as in i live with and work for her, butler-ing to her every feline whim and fancy.

she only eats whole foods wild-caught salmon, insists i read her sylvia plath poetry, and barks like a baby fox when i scratch behind her ears.

paging dr. freud.


what’s most abnormal and sci-fi out of all these askew situations is that i couldn’t be more jolly green giant.

santa claus belly and sweaty, sleepless nights aside, i am the most content i’ve been in decades.

strange, huh?

i told you it was in the air.

you may now proceed with the shit-talking.