Ziti is a magical thing. Ever since the Sopranos–and Carmella’s kinda-sorta priest-seducing ziti–I’ve wondered how it could be so magical. And then I tasted it. A friend whom I hadn’t seen in far too long invited us over for dinner.
Photo by ian dooley on Unsplash
I once worked with a lady whose cat talked to her. “She meows my name,” the lady said—over and over—always with a decided nod of her head. I cannot recall her name with certainty, and, to be honest, I can
I miss my Meth Mondays. If I only forgot trivial things, like the ten thousand and one weird facts or lines from movies or television shows that I carry with me on my day-to-day journeys, like a sack of
Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and the end of 2017 is just a few naps away. I can’t believe 2018 is almost here. This year has been a tough one, a scary one, but also a very, very good one. I have
A coffee cup is a sneaky thing. It escapes my clutches, either dashing with all its caffeinated sweetness, charging the barrier that it (was?) my laptop, or disappearing from the spot I had laid it down just a moment before.