Sure, he was slow to walk with at ballgames, and he told jokes I didn’t understand. But what a grandpa he was. For years, I thought he might’ve been Santa Claus.
Though Dad is long gone, I still see him in a summer sunset. I still see him in a flight of geese.
When you achieve hygge (pronounced hoo-ga), you’ve found a cozy contentment in life’s simple pleasures: friends, family, warm blankets, candlelight.
We’re back in California, that Greek myth, a state that flew too close to the sun.
After Smartacus left, White Fang became an ironic, super-bored princess -- you know the type. Shaggy manes. Legs like palm trees. Look so great climbing out of a pool.
"We're going to the North Pole," I tell her. Actually, we're off to fetch Smartacus, her cheeky sidekick, her partner in grime.
This creature … this scion…this legacy. Miss him so much his very first Easter away.
LA never wowed me the way it wows some folks. Instead, it hooked me with a thousand little revelations.
In a world built increasingly of emojis and avatars, dads are the real deal.
Good food requires no apologies. Good food is second base.