malaga. cross country. australia.

Next week I'm off to Spain, a week after that I'm driving across the country with one of my favorite boys and the puppies, from Los Angeles - it's back to Australia. Goodness me... goodness me... Excitement isn't quite the word to grip all of the happenings around me, fulfillment is better. Not only have I been rocking the shit out of New York City for six and a half years, I'm finding my way home in the exact timeframe I said I would. I have...

one week. strong.

Today is the one week anniversary of my 39th birthday. Just sayin... Tomorrow, also, I go back to the office to see all of my friends after three months. My work from home game was super strong for the past 90 days-ish. Highlights include working remotely in Spain and, of course, getting married. I've never been so quiet in my entire life. I figure it means I'm in love. I'm officially in escape to Australia mode. Step one: puppies need a six...

bloody tags

I had to take Fronkles to the vet a few weeks ago, because something was off. When the vet asked what the issue was, I replied, "I'm not sure, but I reckon he's been eating the bloody garbage." The vet, with a straight face looked at me and said, "What kind of blood was it?" And I was like, "Wow." Fortunately, Fronkles is all good. I probably won't go back to that vet. Even though it's the eighth one I've seen around midtown. For those of you...

i love to break phones

It has been a quiet week. I've been internal, I chanted a bit. I've been spending as much time as I can in the sun before winter sneaks up on me. I also had the great pleasure of my phone breaking, completely. This means all contacts were lost, photos probably got erased. Of course I don't back anything up on my phone. I'll back my writing up, to a certain degree - but my phone? That's too much work. In addition to the smashing of my iPhone6, I...

i can’t lie. puppies.

I think my abrupt honesty with regard to my emotional state can be startling to some people. I know I said that I wasn't going to talk about him anymore, I'm not. I'm talking about me... I'm still not good. Saying that I'm worse than I have ever felt isn't really stretching it. According to my best friend, one time I was worse. When you're 38, and rely on no one the way that I do - after awhile, you start to forget what it's like to need...
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