On November first, I welcomed a new family member into my home and her name is Cova.
It all started when I received a phone call from my daughter asking me, as she has in the past, if I was doing anything that night.
She was car shopping and wanted to know if I would go with her. The drive time to the dealer with traffic—over one hour and a half.
Pondering how crazy it was to shop for a car that was so far away on a weekday evening, I agreed, and we left.
For Bryce and my anniversary this year, we took the town by storm.
Literally, there was a freak storm.
But it didn’t keep us from enjoying our weekend. We packed the car, threw on some extra layers, ran to Walmart (because neither of us owned an umbrella), and headed out to Balboa Island for a beautiful day of quirky shops and beachfront views.
Neither of us had ever been there, so my parents gave me the lowdown of where to take Bryce for dinner and ice cream and what places to see.
Of course, I brought my camera.
All my life, I have been a hot slob. It’s who I am. It’s the way I’m comfortable. I tried to hide it but what was the use?
I was born this way.
My coming out was hardest on my mother, poor thing. She made comments like, you’ll grow out of it. I’m not too worried. Just wait until you have a place of your own.
While under my parents’ roof, I abode by their rules. I lived as closely to my natural lifestyle as possible without encroaching on their especially high standards of living. I didn’t want to embarrass them. I just wanted to be me.
Over the course of this year, I have tried and signed up for many a new thing, all on the journey to become—what I refer to as—”a real adult grown up human person.”
Wifi bills. Accounting apps. Dental insurance.
And getting my own Costco card.
Oh yeah. I went out and dun’it. Got my photo taken and everything.
Stupid black-and-white photo on the back of that card makes me look like a smiling, psychopathic serial killer. But whatever.
Sometimes, I think of myself as a fairy.
A fairy is so small, it can only feel one emotion at a time. Its tiny little mind simply cannot handle more than one thought, distraction, or task. Not that it ever overloads. No. One thing pushes out the last thing, and va-va-voom, Fairy leaves a long, glittery trail of thoughts undone.
Is that where pixy dust comes from?!
Quickly, I realized my quirky little ways didn’t make me a fairy.
They made me ADD.
I am not what they would call a tall drink of water. I’m more of a … shot glass.
5’2. Tiny feet. Loud voice. You know, the typical symptoms of nearing-dwarfism.
I’d be Grumpy.
If you didn’t know, here are seven signs that you are legitimately a short person. If you have all of these, drag up a step-stool and join the club, friend!
As you undoubtedly already know because my YouTube videos are vastly popular, I’ve moved out of my parents house. We went from a family of six to five, to four, to three, until I finally flew the coup.
And now I’m all alone.
A lone wolf. A loner. A wanderer without strings, going wherever the wind takes me, responsible for no one and nothing. Also, very long-winded in her sentences.
Big news, people. BIG. NEWS.
No I’m not engaged.
And if you thought “pregnant,” wash your mouth out with soap. And rubbing alcohol. And then soap again…
I moved out of my parents’ house!
There was this boy I knew once.
Well, knew was an understatement. For lack of better words, I may even say I had fallen for him.
On the morning of Halloween, he disclosed that he didn’t reciprocate my googoo-eyes. His reason being? That my being a writer was a turn-off.
Irony amuses me, which is why I chose to write about him now. *
But this post isn’t about crushes past. **