My (and your) favorite posts:
"I hope for a lot of things. That my check clears or that a pair of perfect shoes are available in my size or that one day I’ll be able to fit into my favorite dress again. I hope that the Giants win this weekend and I hope there’s more wine. I’m neither sentimental nor idealistic, but yeah, sometimes I hope. We all hope every single day because it’s what gets us up in the morning: That hope that things will be better or just as good as the day before. That hope that whatever we are working towards – either alone or as a people – will go well and get better."
"I’m writing this from a hotel in DC, where my satisfaction of coming back to one of my favorite cities in the world, has significantly declined. The first time I came back to DC it was great, the second time still pretty good; I could see my friends, shop in Georgetown and buy as much organic seven dollar oatmeal from Whole Foods as I wanted. This trip will last until Saturday and it is my fourth in two months. If DC were donuts or plates of lo mein from the Chinese Buffet, I would have wretched all over the bathroom floor by now."
"Then she walked down the aisle and that lump? The one that would not and could not go away pushed up and broke the dam. I cried. I have never understood people who cry at weddings. Ladies who keep hankies neatly folded in their pocketbook only to wind up crumpled from being gripped in a hand. Smudged with black mascara. You never remember to purchase the waterproof kind until it’s too late."
"I don’t know if I’ll find someone whose mere presence or with the sound of their voice, will make everything better. Will force every bad thing into perspective and out the window. I don’t know if I’ll meet someone and actually enjoy speaking on the phone just to make the drive less boring even though I hate the phone. I don’t know if I can find someone with whom to wade through the sheer stupidity of everything and the sometimes harsh words that we throw at each other. I don’t know if I’ll ever meet someone who gets me and knows my quirks and just how crazy I am and that I start arguments just because and that I don’t fight fair and yet is able to deal with it either way. I just don’t know."
"I’m not that far removed from high school so I those feelings still creep back up every once in awhile because it’s practically right there. I still can remember the bad days, the cruel crying in the girl’s locker room days and that’s what I always fear upon entering the unknown. Which is when I realized that it’s not the unknown; I’ll be surrounded by people that I ‘know’ and that ‘know’ me."
I’m standing behind a man who doesn’t understand the difference between gallon and quart. He then takes approximately 53 years removing his belt and shoes. By the time he steps foot to the other side of the metal detectors I have gray hair, seven grandchildren and a walker has magically appeared by my side.