“It’s wonderful and it’s horrible,” Ben said.
I had said something to him about how awesome it was that he and his wife were so successful -
“People say that to us all the time,” he said.
“But the truth is
and it’s awful.”
There was a three second pause between each phrase, since he was drunk.
and it’s abysmal.
and it’s hell.”
He seemed to be referring to their marriage.
“The reason you’re not successful,” he continued,
you don’t push yourself.”
“Yeah, I’m lazy,” I said.
“You’re not lazy. But
you don’t push yourself.”He went on. A few feet away, Alex and Jim sat quietly on the couch with their newborn daughter, hearing an unsolicited but probably very necessary pep talk.
Two orange tabby brothers followed us home in December. They lived with us for five weeks, snuggling, wrestling, running around like madmen and punching each other in the face, until their owners saw our “found” signs (which had been posted in front of their house for weeks).
Chupa misses them a ton. They shredded furniture, ate Kolinsky brushes and laptop screens, farted intense farts on our laps, pawed wet paintings and shoved my brush around whenever I painted, but they were cute and soft fuzzballs.
Several years ago, Mom and I visited Japan during cherry blossom season. While there, Mom found out that her mom had cancer and was awaiting surgery in the hospital.
That night, Mom lay on the bed in our room at the ryokan. “Emmie, my mom is sick . . . what if I lose her?” she asked.
I tried to think of something kind and comforting to say.“Well, she is 86,” I said.