Justin Miller, the author of brand-new blog Write It Down, is an old friend of mine.
But there are better reasons you should read his blog aside from my personal endorsement.
Along with being a husband and father, Justin is an Arabic translator for the US Army, and a convert to the Eastern (Greek) Orthodox Church.
A bazillion years ago, I was lucky enough to attend the wedding ceremony of he and his lovely wife and it was absolutely the most beautiful church experience I’ve ever had.
If you know anyone Eastern Orthodox, DO WHAT YOU MUST to get invited to a wedding. The entire ceremony is SUNG by the congregation and it’s totally mindblowing.
Like me, Justin grew up working class, punk rock, and full of snot and attitude so despite his church going-military man status, he’s still got some things to SAY and a brain of his own with which to think. Not that other church-going military men don’t know how to think (Hi older brother and father!) but you know what I mean. Justin has opinions AND eloquence. happy now? sheesh!
Aside from all that, he’s a great writer.
Subscribe to his blog so you can later brag that you were a reader from the start.
Today was my last day at work.
I spent the day training my successor, a lovely lady who is totally going to rule the place and take all the work I’ve done and make it that much better.
The lasts are coming quick now.
Our going away drinks were last night. Friends arrived and left in waves. We hugged and laughed and drank the night away.
Tonight the mister and I walked down the block in the rain and I stood in the pizzaria trying my best to not get strings of mozzarella from my folded-up slice down the front of my coat.
Pizza is a common food but a pizzaria in Brooklyn is a different thing.
The cheese is made by the 90 year old woman down the block, and the basil seeds are flown in from Sicily.
The owner still speaks Italian to his staff behind the counter and his grown son moonlights there while he trains to be a cop.
It’s very New York and I’ve been lucky to live it.
Now it’s time to finalize those last little details and get our bags organized to depart for the airport.
It’s really happening. We’re really leaving.
Actually, it makes complete sense to organize your m&ms into a pill container.
Who is really going to argue that chocolate isn’t a form of medicine?
When I was a child there was a pack of girls my age who lived on my block and I was always felt like a bit of an outsider to them.
They would group off into twos or threes, perhaps all four (me being the lone fifth) and create dance routines to pop songs in bedrooms or rollerskate in packs down our rarely-trafficked street.
Aside from passive social exclusion, I always felt a bit apart from them because most of their moms would let them wear the most sought-after thing a third-grade girl could dream of: EYESHADOW.
Perfectly frosted half-circles of pale blue or lavender shimmer on their eyelids awaited my jealous viewing every morning at the bus stop.
In retrospect, 8 YEAR OLD GIRLS ALLOWED TO WEAR MAKEUP TO SCHOOL?!
Thankfully, I had other friends and my mother bought me a tinted lip gloss, some clear mascara, and a whole mess of nail polish when I finally reached the ripe old age of 13.
I still rarely wear eyeshadow, but I gotta admit, the colors are beautiful.
