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What I Do Best
I’m embarrassingly terrible about moving. I have very little patience—scratch that, I have no patience. Whereas David will methodically organize items in boxes, tape them up, and label them, I’ll just sweep my arm across my desk and
Shingles Suck
I always thought shingles — the sickness, not the roof tiles — was an old person’s disease. Even the Center for Disease Control recommends vaccines only for people over 60. I vaguely remember my chicken pox experience.
Maybies
When people ask me when it was that David and I got married, the only way I can remember the exact date of that Wednesday we eloped is by thinking of my father’s birthday, which is May 17
Kids Are Loud
I try to visit my family in segments — a sister here, a parent there, I break them down into manageable numbers. On rare occasions, such as birthdays and holidays, I must see them all at
Daddy Docent
I like to see a man proud of the place in which he lives. I like to see a man live so that his place will be proud of him. — Abraham Lincoln Dad apologized for
Craic Addicts
Craic (crack) — a term for fun, entertainment, and enjoyable conversation, particularly prominent in Ireland. After suggesting we all meet at around 8 or 8:30 for breakfast, Dad confirmed the rendezvous for 8:15. His decision to
Suburban Dream
Towered cities please us then,/ And the busy hum of men. — John Milton The flags marked the transition from one kingdom to the next. I knew the meaning of all the colors and symbols in
Finding Fergal
There is an Irish way of paying compliments as though they were irresistible truths which makes what would otherwise be an impertinence delightful. — Katherine Tynan Hinkson “‘Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,’ as Father Neil would say,”
Pokémon
Rectitude (n.), the formal, dignified demeanor assumed by a proctologist immediately before he examines you. — Unknown “Are you sure you don’t mind if I eat in front of you?” I asked, as I moved up
Making a Milestone
I love my father as the stars — he’s a bright shining example and a happy twinkling in my heart. — Adabella Radici Dad sat on my red couch, his left hand clutching his right. Surrounding