In sixth grade, I wanted nothing more than to dance with a guy named Kevin to “Careless Whisper.”
I made it happen too.
Eleven years old and small for my age, I didn’t show many signs of impending young womanhood yet.
h/t to Jennifer Mendelsohn
I’ve been trying to draft some clever, thought-provoking posts. A post to make you laugh perhaps. Something that sums up the year in a witty way. And nothing to do with grief – for once.
But, nope! It just hasn’t happened.
I have lots of thoughts and, as usual, a desire to share them, but right now, everything in my head is a bit…scattered. Plus if I take the time to think, you might end up with more sad posts like this.
Part of it has been my recent travel schedule–Sacramento, San Francisco/Walnut Creek, LA, DC and the Scranton area for Thanksgiving. Fortunately none of my Thanksgiving fears came true. Continue reading
I have no idea what made me think of my first kiss recently, but now I can’t stop thinking about it. And not in a good way.
To set this up properly, here’s a picture of me from the First Kiss Era.
I’m pretty sure I was 14 when the kiss happened (although we all know my memory is Brian Williams-caliber terrible) and I think his name was Mike. We met at the mall where my friends and I would try on Z Cavaricci jeans, loiter and try to flirt with boys for hours. Continue reading
