I didn't think that I would use this space for negative stuff, but here I am.

I hate "chemo caps."

I spent a few minutes in the Bargaining phase the other night--I actually said, "Maybe she has pretend-cancer." But I seem to have landed firmly in Anger.

I want to snatch this horrible chunky pink thing off that styrofoam head and then use my fingernails to scratch the head open and break it into thousands of un-vacuumable pieces.

Georges Island

It turns out that I'm not
the mother or aunt
who packs a lovely lunch,
or remembers to put the frisbee in the bag,
or thinks to bring the flashlights.

And it didn't seem to matter.