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  I went to the ENT specialist today for a surgery follow-up. The doctor said all the tests so far are looking good, which should feel like a clean win. But then came the other sentence, the one that sticks in your ribs: he said I’m at a high risk of the cancer returning. I honestly don’t know what to make of that. If the tests are good, there shouldn’t be cancer… right? That’s how my brain wants the math to work. Still, he noticed a small bump on my neck near where the cancer used to be and ordered...

Today I woke up early, the kind of early that usually requires caffeine, courage, and a reason. The reason was a meeting at the Whittier Art Gallery for a group show coming up this January. Art people, gallery walls, possibility in the air. I was in. The meeting went smoothly. We introduced ourselves, shared background stories, talked about our work, our books, our motivations. They seemed genuinely interested in both my art and my writing, which is always a good sign. You can usually feel when a room is politely nodding versus actually listening, and this felt like listening. Then...

To continue the Christmas adventure of our little furry friend, we told the vet that Whiskey Kitty bites a lot. His solution caught me off guard. He suggested putting her in a crate so she’d be confined and “rely on me.” That didn’t sit right. It felt a little mean, and honestly, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, we struck a loose truce. Whiskey has free reign of the upstairs at night before I go to sleep, and during the day she’s closely supervised in various rooms downstairs. So far, so good. Or so I thought. Then...

I’ll admit it, I’ve been slacking a bit on the exercise front. Not totally abandoning it, just… misplacing it temporarily. But honestly, it feels like my support group has been getting a little ambitious with my self-improvement checklist. Let’s review the facts. I quit alcohol before I quit smoking.I quit marijuana before I quit smoking. That wasn’t accidental. That was intentional. Strategic. Tactical even. I wanted those gone, and I did it. Now the chorus has shifted. “Cut out sugar.”“Cut out caffeine.” Excuse me? You took away my Sativa.You took away my Budweiser.And now you want to come for my...

Day 70 arrived early, literally. I was up and out the door to take Whiskey to the vet for her vaccinations, both of us still a little groggy and unsure why mornings exist at all. While we were there, I asked the vet about her new favorite hobby: biting everyone she meets like she’s auditioning for a tiny vampire role. His advice was simple and practical. Get a crate. When she bites, put her in it. She’ll learn. I nodded politely, but inside I knew I couldn’t do it. I just can’t bring myself to punish the poor little thing...