Sunday, December 18, 2005


So is it weird to admit that…

The remnants of my favorite ginseng green tea with honey smell vaguely like cat urine? Or that onions on pizza smell to me like sweaty feet?

Cilantro tastes like soap, by the way.

But a laundromat’s sweet exhaust is alluring to me.


Our cats often give me a look that conjures my late grandfather Harold. Less frequently, one of the cats also channels my late grandmother on the other side. (Of the family that is. Although she is, technically, on the Other Side.) My grandparents appear not in the cats' facial features, but in their eyes (Nana), or in the position of their necks and heads (Pop-Pop). It's a very disconcerting, but also welcome, phenomenon.

Off to take a walk with my new neighbor, who called to warn me that she just saw the Johnny Cash movie last night. "And I have a terrible voice," she rasped. "So, whatever you do, don't let me sing!"

I'm tempted to encourage her.


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