Sunday, June 16, 2013


Happiness is a little white house. It has a smattering of rooms, wide open with high ceilings and many, many windows, all of them shutterless and curtainless to let in the light. It has a wide green lawn out back. There's a gazebo in one corner, and a tiny little garden tucked into another, with a couple benches and a fountain shaped like a woman pouring an urn into a pond. She looks so peaceful, this woman. Happiness is the sunlight streaming down on the little white house, pouring in those huge wide windows. A house full of light. There are old wooden floors and fireplaces and murals painted on the walls. There are doors and doors - some of them real, some of them false, some of them locked, some opening to more rooms, with more wide windows and always - always - light. Happiness is a glassed in porch out back and flowers lining the pavement leading to the front door of the perfect little white house. Happiness is this house filled with people, all laughing and smiling, hugging, talking, eating, dancing, together and alive and - again, like the house - so open and full of light.

It was Christy and Ryan Miller's wedding today. They had it at the Reid House in Matthews. I wouldn't say I enjoyed the wedding that much (it was lovely, but I was there more to serve than to experience as a guest) but I fell hard, "head over heels" if you will, for that house. It's the kind of house you'd want to grow up in and grow old in. One day I want a house like that.

Thursday, June 6, 2013


You know what? I love my family, and I'm grateful for them, and all that stuff you're supposed to say (and that on many other days I truly mean), but today I just have to be honest...

My family can be such assholes.

I've been out of the house for literally 12 hours today, running from work to meeting to other meeting and back to work, with about 40 things on my to-do list, and the literal second thing my father says to me after I walk through the door is, "Are you going to watch TV with us tonight, or do we have to watch one of the other shows?" Literally. Not even in the house thirty seconds. He says hello and then he's guilt-tripping me about watching shows with them. I ask them to save three shows to watch with me: Castle, Good Wife, and Call the Midwives. Good Wife is finished for the season, and he's saving the three or four Castles for later in the summer, so it's not like me not watching with them is keeping them from this huge plethora of viewing they could otherwise be doing. What the fuck!? Asshole.

Then I go upstairs and go to the bathroom. Not to be gross, but it's a sit-down kind of thing. I've been gone 12 hours and only been to the bathroom twice, both of those quick trips. Bowel movements are just a fact of human biology after 12 hours.  I've been in the bathroom not two minutes when Wesley arrives home, and I hear him in the hall downstairs muttering to Mom: "Oh, of course she's in the bathroom. She should just move all her stuff in and live there." Fuck you, Wes. I can't help it if I arrive home five minutes before you every night. I also can't help it that the other day when I made you miss your shower I had just come home from working for 6 hours and had one hour in which to shower, change, and head out again to go to my other job. And I didn't feel bad for you at all because you'd kicked me out of the bathroom the night before to get a shower. Why do you need a shower in the morning after taking one that night? Are your sheets seriously that dirty? So yeah, fuck you too. Asshole.

Mom is the only one not on my asshole radar tonight, but by sitting there quietly and not doing anything she's kind of an asshole enabler. Maybe I'm an asshole too. Maybe it's a family thing. I don't fucking care. I just want them to leave me the fuck alone.