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It was just a few days before Easter and by God it was a real gift knowing that, for at least a few more weeks, my life would be MCAT-less. I finally made that Parsnip cake I’d been wanting, and in doing so surprised even myself. Then, I resolved to bake for people other than myself, because honestly, that’s why I wake up in the morning. I love being able to give to other people. Cookies weren’t an option because with the medical school application over my head, I couldn’t dedicate the at minimum, 5 days it would take to make all those cookies. Instead, I turned to the only cake I knew like the back of my hand, the almond cake. Initially, I resolved to make my professor a cake, then my Aunt, then my two close friends, and then suddenly, the list magnanimously grew until I counted 17 total cakes. Starting at 9 AM I weighed and pulsed and timed 48 minutes until I hit cake 17 at 2:45 in the morning. I hit 17 only to realize that I never put my family on my cake-making list, and so the list grew to 18. 

I delivered the cakes and was surprised by what I received in return, multiple requests for the recipe. I can’t begin to explain what that meant to me. One of my greatest joys is being asked for one of my recipes. In some part, it’s because I realize that without the kindness of strangers, cooking may have never taken a foothold in my life. Sharing recipes is a way for me to give back what others once gave to me. Perhaps a larger part though, is knowing that when I give the recipe away, that person gets a little piece of me. I can smile knowing, that when they use that recipe and hopefully bring joy to someone else, I had a small part in that.

With that, see the recipe below. But before you do, note 3 things. 

First, this is a radical cake. It has won over non-sweet eaters. When I delivered my last cake, my friend was grateful but he felt kind of bad. Neither he nor anyone in his family likes sweets. He thought he would either have to accept the cake and waste it, or reject the cake and make me feel bad. I actually fall in line with his sweet-adverse view, so I was extremely adamant that he try the cake before making a decision. His response was “this is crazy, but its the perfect amount of sweet… I have never had a cake like this”. So, BEWARE, its a paradigm shifter. Hence the post title.

Second, this cake is a strange bird. It does NOT get stale with time, it gets better. You can keep it around for up to 2 weeks. If you can manage to do that, it will only get better as it ages. That, along with the fact that it bakes up like a cratered moon, makes it the perfect cake for shipping to loved ones living in faraway places. 

Last and most important, my cake has a secret. The recipe for this cake is readily available through either the NYT recipe archive or the Genius Desserts cookbook. However, if you follow their recipe, your cake won’t be spectacular. It is very difficult to get your hands on quality almond paste, and unfortunately, much of this cake revolves around that one ingredient. Almond pastes are typically saccharine, preservative-laden, and expensive tubes of goop. When I decided to make this cake, I knew I had to figure out how to make my own almond paste, and I did. I’d like to pretend that I mastered rocket science or did something super incredible, but honestly, the recipe for the almond paste can’t get any easier. Additionally, you don’t end up dirtying extra dishes because the almond paste is made in the same container as the cake (the food processor bowl) and you don’t have to wash the bowl out after making the paste! So please, make the almond paste. 

Almond Cake (and Paste) Recipe

•Please note that the cake relies upon buying a good extract. The great thing is that given the amount of extract you use, the pure stuff won’t cost you your left lung or even the tip of your left pinky. Nielsen Massey is an excellent brand, but when I ran out, I found the “Simply Organic” brand on sale at Whole Foods and my cake tasted amazing. Please do not buy imitation almond extract. If you can’t find the good stuff in a store near you, Amazon now sells one of the brands I like.  •Do see the note I put with the salt. There is a very real difference between Diamond Crystal and Morton Kosher Salt. See this article. I am not saying that you have to rush out and buy one simply because I think it is best, but I am saying that you should try and account for whichever one you choose to use. •Lastly, I will always and forever recommend that you purchase an oven thermometer. It’s a small measure that makes the biggest difference.

PLEASE NOTE: The paste recipe makes 12 oz. You ONLY need 7 oz for the cake recipe. You will have to weigh out or approximate the amount of paste you will need. I tried cutting the recipe down, but any amount smaller than 12 oz is tedious, because then you’d have to split egg whites in half. Ideas for leftover paste: My pinched almond macaroons (to be posted at later date) The recipe for the cake and paste is written below. However, I also put the recipe into pdf form so that they can be easily downloaded and printed.

The Paste

The Paste

1. Pulse almond flour and powdered sugar in your food processor. Break up any lumps. 2. Add rose water and almond extract. Pulse to mix. 3. Add egg white. Process till comes together in a firm mass/ ball. 4. Turn out dough onto work surface. Knead a few times. (Might be a tad sticky… thats okay) 5. Wrap in plastic wrap and put into a closed container.

The Cake

The Cake

1. Prep •Heat oven to 350 F. If you own one, put thermometer in oven. •Butter a 9-inch springform pan •Line bottom of pan with a circle of parchment paper. •Butter the parchment paper circle.
2. Sour Cream Mixture •Stir together sour cream and baking soda. Make sure to use a large enough bowl to allow sour cream to expand.
3. Flour Mixture • If you care to take the step, sift flour. I have done it both ways, and I don’t see much of a difference. •Whisk together flour and salt in bowl.
4. Food Processor Mixture •In a food processor, cream the butter and sugar together until pale and fluffy. ~ 3-5 minutes. •Pull pieces off ball of almond paste and add a few pieces at a time, pulsing until mixture is smooth. •Add egg yolks, one at a time, pulsing after each until fully incorporated. •Add sour cream mixture. •Add almond extract. •Pulse to combine.
5. Mixing •With rubber spatula, scrape batter into large bowl. •FOLD in flour mixture just until batter is smooth and no streaks of flour remain. •Scrape batter into pan, and smooth top.
6. Baking •Set pan on rimmed bake sheet ie a cookie sheet/ jelly roll pan. You do this in case the springform leaks… this way you won’t have to clean the floor of your oven. •Bake until cake shrinks from the sides of the pan and the top is golden, springing back lightly when pressed. •Can take anywhere from 50-60 minutes. However, in Chicago, with my oven temp verified with the thermometer, it takes me 48 minutes. •Let cake cool completely IN THE PAN on a rack.
7. Serving & Storing •When ready to serve, remove sides of pan. Peel parchment off bottom. Sift confectioner’s sugar over top. •Store airtight in a container. •Can be put in fridge, or left out on counter. •Will last 2 weeks and will only get better with age.

It’s 1985.

Ignore the voice.

Listen to that drummer.

Dave Grohl.

That’s what 16 sounds like.

Over the summers, my dad and I frequented art fairs.

Usually we went to surround ourselves with the work of the artists.

It was as if by surrounding ourselves within that environment, we could somehow absorb their talent and creativity.

Osmosis.

I scour the fairs for ceramics, especially bowls.

My dad, however, is inevitably drawn to salvaged junk.

Over the course of our trips, he has accumulated 4 pieces, all of which get left outside to rust away. Literally.

As someone who (borderline neurotically) takes care of everything, that artistic concept was a tough one to grasp.

My lack of comprehension was on full display with the first purchase.

My dad and I are standing in this tent where an artist was hawking sculptures made out of things like old bike chains.

Dad picks out a dragon statue for our tomato garden. I give it a once-over and then directed inquiries of legitimate concern at the artist. “This is very nice, but seeing as we will be keeping it outside, won’t I have to coat it in some sort of chemical to keep the rust away? Where do you suggest I buy the protectant? How do I apply it?”

The artist looked at me, speechless, borderline offended, and like I was some alien speaking Greek.

My dad looked at me with a mixture of amusement and a slight smidge of embarrassment.

Apparently the whole point is for it to rust.

Planned deterioration.

I will never understand leaving something out to deteriorate, but I can at least admire the sentiment of finding beauty where most others see none.

Later and gratefully, I learned that not all salvaged art calls for self-destruction.

This brings me to present day.

Last night, as I sat awake till 4 am, I became reacquainted with my old friend, the “estate liquidator”, Everything But The House.

I’ve long enjoyed browsing the EBTH site, and have found some real treasures, but that day I wasn’t browsing to find anything. Rather, I was looking to fritter away time, to keep myself awake, and no, studying wasn’t an option. At 3 am my brain was fried, and honestly I just wanted the sheets to hurry up and dry. I was quite tired.

Then, as I was browsing through the local Chicago sales I found a beautiful piece of art, and if I wasn’t a son of a gun, it was salvaged art.

Something was so captivating about the color scheme, scrap metal and all.

I knew the bench and table were must-haves.

At some point in my life (hopefully soon) I will need a table and chair to call my own.

A place to sit, to decompress, to remember what it feels like to relax.

As I sat admiring (before the reality, of needing to find a way to move it from the warehouse to my own house, sunk in) my purchase, it struck me that the colors attracted me to the piece, but that something else inevitably kept pulling me to the piece. It finally hit me that the accents under the bench reminded me of the that first piece of salvaged art I laid eyes upon. It reminded me of the tail of the dragon, and more importantly, of the dragon’s current owner.

I realized then what I’d long since (perhaps unconsciously) known. Knowledge dating over a decade back to my request for my own grandmother’s kitchen table.

Tables and chairs are not just objects, not just places to relax, to sink into, to idle.

Perhaps tables and chairs are really a wrinkle in time, in which we can sit down and truly be present with others. Functioning, to foster a connection so that later, when time long makes itself felt, we can simply sit, remember moments, and remember people.

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Because present and future is nothing without the beginning of the story:

The story of the artist

The story of the previous owner

How did I cross paths with this song?
No idea.

I emailed myself “for running”.
It sure is.
I think I should’ve included the word “PERIOD” after running.

Not sure when or if I’d ever listen to this again.

Whatever.
Blame it on the MCAT.
I knew I was going crazy, here’s proof.

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Rivers

As I have previously professed, I love this Josh Groban song. It evidently isn’t a favorite among the Apple Music crowd though. 10 songs deep down the list, as I was scrolling to it, I accidentally selected the song below it, this one.

Happy accidents.

River by Ibeyi

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Heather:
Carter, what’s your favorite song?

Carter:
[Thinks for a moment] “Strawberry Champagne”

Heather:
“Hmmm, don’t know that I’ve heard that one.”

Inner thought: Wow, I’m getting old, and out of touch with all that’s new and popular.

Goes home, and looks up that song….

Gold jewelry shining so bright
Strawberry champagne on ice
Lucky for you, that’s what I like, that’s what I like

Puts hands in the air and starts dancing around, Oh I know this one, Go Bruno!

Childhood is beautiful. I never did get the song names correct back then, and I still don’t. I’m lucky now if I get the lyrics right. Record Store anyone?

Recurring regret for not having gone to that concert.

Thanks Sergio.

It is strange how some things (like doors and poems) find you right when you need them.

This morning I woke up having what I’ll call a moment. I sat down at my desk to study and felt crushed by the sheer amount of content remaining with only 30 days till the exam day. By my own standards, I was agitated, something that rarely ever happens. I was frozen in a state of “how do I know where to begin?” and “what have I been doing this whole time!?”.  As a kid, when I fell behind, I would often continue to fall further and further back. Usually, but not always, it took me becoming incredibly stressed and frantic for me to find a way to the finish. Sure, I finished, but with a mere breath left in me. What I couldn’t afford was falling prey to that cycle as an adult.

What it took was my door.

A year ago, with a spring cleaning bug, I found a quote I’d (years previous) ferreted away. As a post-bac, pre-med I saw so much (more) worth in it, that I immediately posted it to my door. Now, easily visible both day and night, when I wake and when I lay down to sleep, the words “Just Get Started” stare at me. Three simple words that carry so much freedom and power in them that if they were human, they’d rip my door right off its hinges. On the infrequent occasion when I lose sight of my goals when the light at the end of the tunnel begins to flicker like a bulb on its last leg, I see that quote, and I know just what to do. I start “stringing together the singles.” As if it’s a 10-0 blow-out baseball game, I stop swinging for the home run, risking the strikeout, I just get started and put enough singles together to hopefully win, but at the very least finish with dignity.

Today, moping around, I spotted those words. So I did that, I got started. I chipped away a little so that I could start the next day afresh and hopefully less stressed. That night as I laid down to sleep, I pulled out a poetry volume and happened on Ithaca. I started reading it, liked the first line, and started reading out loud. By the third line, I felt like I was ready to cry, and by the eighth line, I was choking up.

The poem meant so much to me because it put this whole process in perspective. I have spent the better part (nearly the entire part) of the last 3 years (or is it all of my adolescent and adult life) working towards my goals, putting off so much to one day find the greatest reward, the fulfillment of what I believe I can do. I realized that no matter what happens, this has been a beautiful journey, and I have learned so much about myself. I have also learned that it will happen. I will reach my goal, perhaps not in the perfect way I have planned, but in a way no less inspiring and thrilling.

Ithaca taught me to let my mind rest, knowing that life will happen and that looking so far ahead, adding so much pressure on myself, is the “cyclops” on my road. It taught me that the cyclops won’t be there unless I give him an invite. This journey will be everything that I make of it, and I won’t make it awful.

The Sean Connery Recitation

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1n3n2Ox4Yfk

An Interpretation

You know how they talk about love at first sight?

Not sure i believe in that.

But what’s the equivalent for music? For when you hear a song and you just know deep down in your heart that that song was meant to exist? Meant to come into this world to bring you joy?

Whatever the equivalent is, this is it.

And wow, he makes even this nearly-certifiably-crazy ballerina (whose name has not been mentioned here for purposes of not wanting to be tracked by other governments) come across as attractive.

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I love it when I run across a song and have to ask myself “How do I find this stuff?!”. I relish unearthing the little gems, but it’s even more compelling to rediscover them.

Originally a B-side to an equally impressive track “I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself”, this ended up on the Japanese import of the White Stripes’ Elephant .

What fantastic lyrics throughout, but

Who’s to say that I’m unhappy ’cause I rarely smile?
Sittin’, hopin’, dreamin’, waitin’ for my ship to sail
Who’s to say this time I’ve wasted someday won’t get used? Maybe if you come around I’ll start to get enthused
Who’s to say?
Who’s to say?

Thank you Jack.

Rock on.

I still don’t like you though.

Featured Image from Chad’s Stash, what a cool project!

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I started going through my This is My Jam (TMJ) Archive and realized how badly I’d love to share those posts in this space. From July 15, 2013, to September 25, 2015 (the day TMJ closed) I posted 54 jams. Documenting, what was, in essence, my undergraduate experience. Over the next year (or few), I will pull posts and share them here. I was initially going to post-date the throwbacks, but I don’t ever want to confuse them with my first post ever made 😉 As such, they will be dated up top, in the title. 

The inaugural TMJ throwback will have to be the one that prompted these entries. When TMJ announced their decision to close, I rushed and began posting as often as I could. At that point, my desk was piled high with scrap pieces of paper depicting scribblings of titles, authors, sentiments, and dates. It was a messy, backlog of the songs I wanted to post.  The following is one of those backlogged songs. It’s a reasonably familiar song, but it was new to me.

Before leaving for college, I made a bunch of “random CDs.” In iTunes, you can generate music genius playlists from a single song. Since my entire family shared iTunes, I ended up with 32 CDs (labeled solely with a number, no track-lists) featuring a collection of varied and new-to-me songs. I still love saying, “let’s try #16 today”, finding everything from Celine Dion to Cat Stevens, and having to Shazam at red lights.

This TMJ entry holds notable value for me because of the description I attached to it.

“I feel as if a part of me will always associate this song with Gaming Innovation. I swear I’ve heard the song going both to and from that class… on both the sunny, warm, rushed, wonderful drive there and on the way back, in the dark and silence*.” 

What I especially love about this entry is that my description takes me right back to that moment in time. On my undergraduate drives to that class, I often pulled out those CDs. The honest truth is that somehow, whenever it came time to get to Gaming Innovation class, random CD (#-since-forgotten) always started up on this song. I have no idea how that was possible, but it happened. I also love that this highlights the incredibly exciting aspect of my undergraduate experience; reminding me to be grateful for the opportunity I had there. How many undergrads get to take a class on inventing a casino game for patent?

* When I first read this entry after 3.5 years,  I latched onto the words describing my car ride. Both there and back were accurately depicted, but I sort of smirked at the contradiction of the “dark and silence” description. I cannot emphasize how faithful to that drive those words are. The strange part though is that it was not silent, the song was playing, and it was not dark, because the Vegas lights never go out. That said, it really was dark and stilled, not in a physical way, but in the way it felt. It was a strange but beautiful serenity.

The sound quality of the video is iffy, but it’s a bit entertaining to flashback to your parent’s era and think my God, did they style like that too? The mullet… wow.

What do you call the genre that includes Belinda Carlisle, Your Love, Jessie’s Girl, and others like this Song of the Week? Much like Paul Westerberg’s Waiting For Somebody, they’re songs I bounce around to. I hear them and I can almost picture myself sliding in my socks down the hall, bellowing into my hairbrush. Except that I don’t have a hairbrush, and I hate socks without slippers. Really though, songs like this energize me in the most positive way, and I have no idea what to call them.

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There are many incredible moments I have missed. Moments like

This

This

and This

All missed because of one simple reason. I had not yet been born.

That said, I have long asserted I was born right at the perfect time. If for no better reason that I’m as old as Harry. Sort of. Harry Potter was released to the US in September of 1998. At that moment, I had just started Kindergarten. When I finally picked up the Sorcerer’s Stone, I was a first grader, and so was Harry. As the years wore on, I anxiously awaited each year and the book it would bring with it. As Harry grew up, so did I. When that last book was released, I felt I had lost a friend. I’m not sure that I’ll ever be content with how it ended or rather that it ended period, but I know I will ever be grateful for the series.

With the books came the somewhat gimmicky toys, and as a 10-year old, I received the “official” Hogwarts potion kit. I only ever used it once (likely due to the mess we made of it), but all said it inspired, in me, a love of potion-making. Growing up, that meant purchasing DIY books for making my own lotions and every which face potion. Wouldn’t you know that 12 years later I was still able to make just as big of a mess as I had when I first received that magical kit? Word to the wise, do NOT attempt to make your own beeswax-based lotion in a Vitamix. You will regret it. While the lotion phase has fortunately passed, I still bookmark odds and ends to try. Last month, I stumbled upon this page. An apple cider hair rinse sounded weird enough to try. So I did and was I ever happy with the result. My scalp felt and continues to feel amazing!

Aloe and Apple Cider Vinegar Hair Rinse
AKA
SCALP POTION

*You can use this rinse in place of or after shampoo. I use the rinse in place of shampoo.*

BITS:
A squeeze bottle
12 g or 1 heaping Tbsp Aloe Vera Gel
30 g or 2 Tbsp Apple Cider Vinegar (with mother)
7 oz water

PIECES:
Put all ingredients into the bottle. Shake well.

Before each use, make sure to give the bottle a vigorous shake. You want to re-incorporate the aloe into the rinse.

Wet your hair thoroughly.

If you have mid-length to long hair, or if your hair errs on the thicker side, you will want to treat your scalp in parts. View your scalp as having 3 major areas. Front/mid-scalp, the crown, and the back. If any confusion, see this image. Repeat the following process for each scalp area until the product has been applied to your entire scalp.

Create mini parts in your hair with the bottle. Squeeze the bottle as you go to dispense the rinse. Once the product covers all scalp areas (do not forget the section directly behind your ears!), massage the rinse into your scalp. Let sit for 5-7 minutes. Then rinse out product. Please remember, do not get this in your eyes, it burns. Apply consistently 1X per week.

Prepare to be amazed!

 

 

 

As a Junior in college, I set a goal to write enough essays to pay my college tuition for the year. I wrote till my hands cramped, and my mind blanked. In March of 2015, I had nearly hit my mark. I had just one essay left to write, and the prompt was, “If you could go back to any one moment in time, which would you pick?”. I wanted to share this because of all the essays, this is the one I remember most, the one I cherished. I had not read or shared it in the 4 years since it was submitted. Only because I was writing this post, did I venture to find Seabiscuit. When I did, I made myself tear up all over again.

“If I could travel back to any one point in time, I would want to see and experience Seabiscuit’s last race, the 1940 Santa Anita Handicap at Santa Anita Park in Arcadia, California.

Although an unremarkable, imperfect horse Seabiscuit rose to become not only the best in his field but also a fantastic inspiration to many.

Mistreated as a foal, and saddled with birth defects including a limp, perpetual wheezing, and small stature, Seabiscuit was an unlikely champion. If Seabiscuit was too tiny, his jockey was too big, and for all the physical impediments Seabiscuit had to battle, he was not alone; his jockey was blind in one eye. Nevertheless, together, they became an unbeatable team.

Though Seabiscuit was physically the antithesis of a prize-winning horse, he had what most others lacked, heart. Seabiscuit was the underdog, much like the American public for which he raced. He was an incredible athlete who in conquering his defects became not only the best but more importantly, inspiration at a time when Americans were desperate for just that.

In 1939 Seabiscuit suffered an injury that should have ended his career. He was written off by many as finished. However, in 1940, Seabiscuit came back for one final race. That race, the 1940 Santa Anita Handicap, is the one I would have loved to witness.

Throughout his career, as Seabiscuit ran and fought with all his might, Americans did too. By 1940, America finally seemed clear of the Great Depression, but as war raged in Europe, destruction began throwing shadows on the horizon. At that moment, though, Americans could say that for all the strife, and all the hard times, they had finally made it. Seabiscuit had been with them, carrying them along, providing not just one leg up, but four.

The crowd that day would rival current day Super Bowl numbers. I can only imagine and long to experience the electricity running through the stadium on that day. To feel the spirited cheers as an American hero, a symbol of American fortitude, conquered illness and incredible setbacks to race one last time, to pull off the improbable victory. The exhilaration, communal joy, anticipation and, ultimately, relief of the crowd that day would have been beautiful to share.

Just reading about, or even watching theatrical remakes of the 1940 Santa Anita Handicap fills me with emotion; Seabiscuit is an inspiration. As an American, I am very proud of the people who helped form our nation and those who fight for it. Moments in history, like this one, where we stand together as one and triumph, are extraordinarily meaningful to me. Seabiscuit is a manifestation of the American strength for getting past dark days.

This race and the story of Seabiscuit are also of great importance to me because as a fighter who perseveres every day, I relish the moments and the heroes who prove that the fight is worth it. Who shows that even with bad days in between we can still come out winners.”

Uncharacteristically, I went out and bought a book right off the shelf.

Atomic Habits by James Clear.

I am 33 pages in, and I have already gotten my money’s worth. Clear suggests that there are 3 layers of behavior change: the outermost layer, OUTCOME, then PROCESS, then IDENTITY. The whole process over outcome was comprehensible. Stop focusing on goals. Instead, focus on process, and seismic change will one day follow. But “Identity” above process? Are we talking about attitude? Have a positive outlook, positive self-image, and you’ll do well? If that’s it, I win… But that wasn’t it.

The foundation of success is the way you see your habits, like losing weight or cessation of smoking. If the cessation of smoking is your goal and someone offers you a cigarette, what do you do? According to Clear, you do NOT say, “No, thanks, I am trying to quit.” WHAT?!?!? Instead, you say, ” No, thank you, I am not a smoker.” To change your life, you have to change your identity. My mind was blown right there. That’s so simple, but had I ever thought about that? Probably not.

It was at that moment that I realized, I am not emulating Katie.

Who’s Katie? My friend Katie is the most put together, intelligent, hardest working young person I’ve ever met. We sat next to each other in our biology courses, and for me, it was the best thing that came out of my NU experience. I made a true friend (which in and of itself is incredible and beyond meaningful), but I also found a mentor. She has helped me in every step along the journey to med school from setting the bar in class, to showing me that it is possible to “beat” the MCAT. She is at the top of her game in everything she does, and you’d never know it; Katie is one of the most humble and kind individuals walking this Earth. She shared her successes with me, her constant advice, her methods, her time, when all I could say, was, “I don’t think I can do this.” Her response, “but you can.”

We have an inside joke in my family, it’s that “Wow, Katie sure is bossy!” 🙂 She is the total opposite of bossy, and we all know that. However, we say that because when Katie makes a suggestion, I make it a requisite. Katie RECOMMENDED that I write drafts of my secondaries early. I turned around and told myself, you MUST write your secondaries early. It was always an iteration of if you want to do well, you MUST go and do this, go and do that.

Truth is, I wanted to emulate her success, to be just like Katie. I wanted to make my parents cry as I broke the news of my MCAT score. I wanted to travel the US to interview at schools I couldn’t have dreamed of as a kid; waiting on acceptance letters and knowing that they would be sent to me, then making my parents cry again when the letters did arrive, having a choice in where I’d end up. Then I read Clear’s book, and I realized it’s not that I want to be Katie, I am Katie.

Chris covers Chris. Too cool.

“And before I let one more tear hit the ground
I will be the one standing between you and the sound”

There’s something about the way Stapleton sings that. I believe it.

January 6, 2019
I’ll never forget that double-doink. In part because Sergio called it nearly to a tee. And in larger part, because that night we laughed so hard at life (aka mom). Those are the moments I hold on to.

And oh, I murdered Sergio in Rummikub. That too is worth remembering. ;P

Song of the Week. Thanks to our now mutual Revivalist love.

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