A good friend of ours died on Sunday. I guess technically he was Chris's friend, but he was one of the nicest, most big-hearted guys you could ever meet and I always enjoyed hanging out with him too. There are tributes to him all over the internet today -- he was a very talented, very well-known comics artist -- and I'm not even going to try to compete with those. He had a heart attack; he was 44. This definitely goes in the "not fair" category. Rest in peace, Mike; we miss you.
One of the things that I failed to appreciate about my mom until I left home is that she always made dinner (although I think we called it supper then), by which I mean, something hot, usually involving a vegetable. I don't remember my mom ever saying sheepishly to her hungry spouse and offspring, "I don't feel like cooking, how about a bowl of cereal?" I hate making dinner. Haaate it. It's my least favorite chore. It's not necessarily because I can't cook. I can usually manage to create something edible, although I have yet to perfect the science of getting, say, the chicken and the broccoli and the rice and the rolls all ready at the same time. (There are those among you who may be surprised that I make and serve broccoli. It's true! It's best when roasted: Toss with olive oil and salt, spread on a baking sheet, put in 400 degree oven for about 8 minutes. It's delicious! Delicious as broccoli can be, at least.) It's also not necessarily t...
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Def. not fair. Not fair at all.
Mom