(Jaclyn) always pretended that she was not lame.
Naming your child after a Disney princess when you live in Florida is the lamest shit ever and proves you have zero creativity, even though you dropped out of one of our most prestigious art colleges. I have more faith in the pregnant 14-year-old in my 6th period. *Oh, my mistake. The baby was... Continue Reading →
In the garden, I am the number one helper granddaughter/grandson— he’s the vegetable veteran, hands blending into the soil. My fingers clumsy and pale, the onion bulb to his roots. He follows, instructing and inspecting with as many “that a girls” as beans in my bucket; the weight driving the handle deeper into my palm.... Continue Reading →