Tuesday, September 29, 2020

Well, I must really be turning 40, because this past week I’ve been debating between expensive double chin-removal surgery or a similarly-priced meditation training course. The two are probably mutually exclusive, both in values and finances, but in the end, I’ll probably just re-establish dental care, get the routine mammogram, pluck a few mole hairs, and put on lip gloss.

Rowan is walking though, so that’s cool. And the Biden/Harris signs are popping up like daisies around the neighborhood, including at the house where the hippie cops live. Besides the police cruisers, their whole flowering yard feels like so many prayer flags. Over the fence, they tell us they bake with the eggs their ducks lay, offer us some, and laugh when Rowan tries to say quack.

I guess there’s a speck of hope for these chins yet.

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