"Why do people make ultimatums?"
"Because they think they have leverage when they don't."

The Five Minutes Before I Fall Asleep

Will my suitcase get here tomorrow?

I forgot how much I liked listening to Tea Leaf Green.

I shouldn't have eaten right before bed. My tummy's protesting again and if Mom was here she'd be so upset with me, so disappointed that I'm not trying harder to be a better, prettier, skinnier daughter. Sidebar: Try harder to be a better, prettier, skinnier daughter.

The lingering smoke is irritating my lungs. I can't believe the fire department was in here today. I can't believe we had to air out the house when it was -10 degrees outside.

This vacation hasn't been exactly what I wanted/needed but I can't say it hasn't been adventurous.

I don't know how long it's been since we talked, or how long it will be, but I find myself wondering if he thinks about it as much as me.

Being back here makes me nostalgic. Winter wonderland scenes. Falling.
Jenny Lake,
Hot springs.

I can't wait to ride the dog sleds.

I hope my suitcase gets here with all my winter gear in it.

The fire wasn't B's fault since the flue wouldn't open. I wish he wouldn't be so hard on himself. He's such a good kid.

If Lundqvist doesn't do better he won't win the Vezina this year.

My tummy feels funny. I really shouldn't have eaten right before bed. It wasn't even that good.

I am too soft in places I shouldn't be. Too small in places I shouldn't be.

If they lose my suitcase, I'm going to have to buy new clothes. Maybe I should forget about the skiing then.

I shouldn't try too hard to get over the jet lag. I need to go right back to work the day after I get back to NY.

These covers always slip down during the night. Maybe I should stop sleeping topless, it gets so cold too.

Welsh Corgis are the funniest looking dogs.

It's really nice of him to treat me to a day at the spa considering how unrelaxing this vacation has been. It's not even his fault. Well, not most of it anyway.

I hope my suitcase gets here tomorrow.

Peanut Butter & Jazz

This kitchen is full of
Jelly roll blues
Ragtime tunes
Swing and spread and sing and shred
Swirling and twirling
In creamy hues

Have a little dab of paste
Take a little taste
What a flavor shock
A sprinkle of fusion rock
Don’t forget this wholesome bread
Some white some rye some straight ahead

Frost a cakewalk dance
Oil up some romance
Butter up Quintette du Hot Club de France
A dash of sugar on the Dixie
A splash of honey makes me Dizzy

Rhapsody and bebop
Plus a few cups of soul
Work it beat it bake it eat it
Now let it cool
Make another, kick it, old school.

Four Years

This is for four years. This is for 1471 days. This is for the fact that it hasn’t gotten easier despite what everyone says.

It’s for when I wake up and have dry eyes and I know the one thing, the only thing that will make me tear is the thought of you. This is for the fact that I still don’t allow myself to wander into that danger zone between quiet mourning and hysterical breakdown. The span is too great and with my small size, I can only run away from everything so fast.

This is for how you always asked me if I was okay. For your muddle headedness that was more endearing than infuriating. For how you always defended me from everyone. How I never defended you enough.

This is for the walk from the subway to the Empire State Building when I thought I should write this, and for the tears that immediately welled up how I still can’t fully be thinking about the topic as I type because I know I’ll just crumble.

This is for how proud you would have been of me. For the fact that I’m working with Lao Gao, who wrote a book that you’d recommended to Mom and Jiujiu years ago. This is for how mad I am I can’t share that with you.

For the pride you instilled in me. For Romance of the Three Kingdoms, and Return of the Condor Heroes. For the multi-hour long discussions I’ve lost along with you. For how much I wish I had known better then. And stayed home.

And how about your strength through two single party systems, a revolution, a great leap forward, a cultural revolution, and then democracy. For the wisdom you gained through all this.

This is for teaching me about Linux, for the copy of Longhorn I found in your CDs 3 years before Vista came out. For Ghost, and RSS feeds. For the fact that you may well have been the biggest pirater on the east coast at the tender age of 79.

This is for repentance. It’s for the 16783 words I’ve written about you that you’ll never read. Every piece of you that seeped into my stories. For your acceptance, for your ignorance, for your traditional thinking, for your progressive support. For love. For forgiveness. For peace.

(and for the simple truth that no matter how much more I write, it all comes back to the same old same old...I wish I could think about how much I missed you without feeling like the whole world is going to fall apart…and once in a while I wish I could be ignorant enough to believe in heaven so that I can fool myself into thinking I’ll see you again)

Anxious

There are buckets of words in my head ready to tumble out of my mouth, or shoot through my fingers and make a mess all over this page.