Happy fifth anniversary!

The fam on the way to the Russian River. Happy anniversary, baby. I love you more every day!

Play fetch with us!

RIP Roger Ebert

Damn you, 2013. You are taking too many amazing people. Today Roger Ebert died at the age of 70. He was a great man and a huge influence on me. When I write, I so often think of a line I once read by him, something to the degree of specifics create the best universalities.

I first became a huge fan while working at the Fairfield Daily Republic, where his reviews would run on the wire. Then I read his Sideways review, where he noted that, at heart, a drunk is always planning his drinking, and I realized (after so many others) that this was more than just a movie reviewer. This was a philosopher, and a brilliant one at that.

Adam and I saw him at the Castro Theater a few years back. He and his wife Chaz seemed like great people. It's a very sad day.

Something I probably wouldn't put on Facebook

I'm not sure how changing your profile picture to an equality icon does anything for your cause. It's nice and all, but it's symbolic. I highly doubt the Supreme Court judges are like, hey look! Joe Douchebag changed his profile pic, let's change the law of the land!

Now to duck and run.

More

I don't think Steve is going to make it. We received notice that anyone who wants to visit should come as soon as possible. As someone on the other side of the country, I feel simply helpless.

Barbara and Steve

Barbara and Steve Weinstein are two of my favorite people in the world. I have literally known them forever, and my mother went to high school with Barbara. They have treated me like a daughter and Adam like a son.

Last week I got news that rocked my world.

It started with a forwarded news story from Adam. Bus/car crash in New York. Made no sense until I clicked on his other email.

Barbara and Steve were in a terrible car accident. Barbara was killed instantly and Steve was in critical condition. I read those words and they made no sense. They still don't. I read every news article I can get my hands on, look closely at Steve's mangled Porsche. I can't make the connection.

When something like this happens, it's like getting the floor pulled out from under you. Barbara and Steve have been facts of my life since before I understood what that meant. All I can do now is remember Barbara and hope for Steve's recovery.

A Coffee Bean on Ventura

Thrum of a freeway, but no one within these walls hears it. They are concentrating on their ice blendeds, their paper cups. Across the street is something called Slaw Dogs, Doner King, Carnation Nails. I'm hearing a lot of a-words: acknowledge, appreciate. Another one: apologize. What's with all these supplications? For once I'm writing without thought, without editing. I'd like to think I do this on a regular basis, but really I'm always tweaking. Twinkling? Whatever. I sound like I'm high. I'm not.