Cake I like

When your 50 and your a writer and you’re mom was an English teacher, she of course orders you a chalkboard birthday cake framed in homonyms and conjugations:

When your April birthday is in the middle of winter, your mom of course makes both tulip cookies and snowman cookies:

My mom—along with the rest of my family—totally gets me.

#HowToTurn50

Unhealthy. Unappetizing. Unnatural. Revolting to everyone with good judgment. Plus covered in mysterious swampy goo.

Chokingly dry office cafeteria dessert or trump administration metaphor?

Reflections on a summer evening dinner with a friend

1. I have some truly lovely friends.
2. Pizza is good.
3. 2017 is shaping (ahem) up to be the summer of the athletic round butt tucked neatly but distractingly in tailored, architecturally supportive above-the-knee shorts.
4. This entire post is just an elaborate pretense for me to faux-offhandedly describe our waiter's butt as though it happens to be a random line item in a numbered-list description of my evening.
5. You know I wouldn't lie about something like this.
6. Also the guy's butt at the table next to ours.
7. We Iowans sure know how to throw a torrential downpour, amirite?
8. Our waiter also had a massive tattoo on his forearm.
9. We also had a pan-size cookie smothered in layers of ice cream, chocolate sauce, regret and despair.
10. Butt butt butt.