So an extreme runner, a baker, and a writer walk in to a dinner party… I didn’t even know there was such a thing as “extreme runners”. IronMen, yes, but extreme runners? People who run like, ONE HUNDRED MILES at a time. In a day. Over the course of 12 to 24 hours. Without, like,
I like to imagine my dreams coming true in great detail. Where I’ll be. What I’ll be wearing. Precisely how I’ll be feeling. And mostly, who I’ll turn to to say, “It happened! Sweet Jesus, can you believe it, score! we did it, the day has come, they called, I’m there, we made it, it’s
girlfriend, i adore you. like, insanely, madly, infinitely, priceless diamond, cosmic shiny adore you. it’s crazy how much i adore you. you told me to dump the chump. i cut my bangs way too short before a job interview. you told me to wear a low cut blouse to distract from the nasty haircut. i
That uncomfortable silence after a friend has told you his bad news or a rant of how overwhelmed she is. Break ups and broken arms and melt downs. Even for our best friends we don’t always know what to say or do to make it better. We fumble to fill the space with salving words,
