It makes no sense to close yourself off from others now. I receive a joke, laugh my head off, pass it on. If it's not in a language that the other person knows, I translate it.
It’s been so long that laugh tracks seem fresh again.
It’s not the spasms or pain I remember, only the damp, hot, itchy, smelly strips of wool.
We didn’t realize the degree to which irrigation saturated our lives until our first trip to the Oregon coast.
I like first-person headshots possibly more than I like writing.
