Not dead

I’m alive. It’s true. I have some stories. I went to Buffalo for Christmas. My mom asked me to fix her brand-new alarm clock. She said it looked like there were double numbers on there and it was annoying her. So I peeled off the plastic sticker that had the fake time written on it. That helped.

My dad tried to get me to eat an English muffin.

Me: I’ll just have half of one.
Dad: You know they shrink when you toast them.
Me: No, I’ll just have half.
Dad: Half of a SHRUNKEN one?

I spoke to my Italian grandmother about my grandfather, because I’m writing a play about him and his boxing career in the 40s. I learned that he used to call her his chicken girl, because she worked on her family’s chicken farm, and that she flew to Florida as he got sicker and sicker from ALS to get snake venom from an experimental treatment center there.

I also said hello to the trees, and told them that they looked a lot better than when I’d last seen them in November.

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