I'm re-reading what there is of my memoir up until this point. All 155 single-spaced pages, all 55,000 words. I am fighting tears. I will give this to Adam over Thanksgiving. He will read it all for the first time. This is the first time I am trusting him, trusting anyone, with it.

No wonder I sometimes feel I'm falling apart.

Here's some funny shit from the manuscript, though. It will be funny, as funny as it is sad.



Waking from the dream is like swimming to the surface of a deep pool whose bottom you’ve touched. I’m out of breath and bleary, but grateful.

I’m in Jonathan’s room. It’s the most organized place in the house. The kid is only four and already knows how to wrest order from chaos. His stuffed animals sit atop the bookshelf. They’re arranged from smallest to largest.

I’m still a little disoriented and I could swear Barney tips me a wink. He’s sitting next to Jibber-Jabber, that unfortunate monkey with shit for brains and a few double-As up his butt. True to his name, he’d yammer when someone walked by. One night Nails ran across him and he started yacking away. She screamed and stuffed him in the microwave to shut him up. After that Jibber got the juice yanked out his ass and found himself relegated to the doll shelf.