The ancient Greeks thought the brain was in the stomach. Since all emotions are felt there it must be where they are processed and acknowledged as well. Even though science dictates otherwise, it still rings true.
I love the holidays the way I love everything: painfully.
I got a pale pink KitchenAid standing mixer for Christmas. I'm terrified of it and so I set it up just so I can look at it and adore it. If only I had a manger in which to place it...
Going home is so strange. I was lying in bed at my mom's house and listening to Florida at night, no matter what the season: the building hush of a passing car, the barbed hum of insects, et cetera, and it occurred to me that I no longer took the noise for granted. It was odd in my ears and the oddness translated to nostalgia and then to a giddy sadness. I Don't Live There Anymore. Hmm. I tried to hide this by talking loudly and laughing hard and waking up on time but it was all too transparent.
I like baths.
I'm going to New York in January.
When I pulled up to my sister's house my nephew Sayre said, "Anti, you're back! You came back, Anti!" and my heart officially broke. Also, he recently held a burrito up to his ear and said, "It's a shell! You can hear the ocean in it!"
In high school, I had a zine called Pantload.