I’ve gone out of my way to hatch a plan for her anxiety disorder and she comes to Georgia is a total douche.

Before you kick me in the esophagus on her behalf, give me a chance to explain.

Writing a story is hard.

Whether it’s Lifetime-movie-of-the-week dramatic of spleen-splitting humor, it’s difficult to tell a tale that stands out from the millions of others on shelves.

Then Jenny comes along.

She’s able to take topics that are serious at their core. Then wrap them in her hilarious presentation. They become universal and identifiable. Touchable. Real.

People realize that if this funny, loveable person can be full of her brand of crazy, it’s ok to admit that we all are.

And she’s an excellent writer.

It makes it very hard to be faced with the task of trying to write a tragic topic and infuse your humor in it. Why even bother?

DOUCHE-CABOOSE!

If you haven’t read her book, you are a fool and we’re all mocking you behind your back. DO IT.

If you’re never been to her site, I’ll assume you’ve been in a coma and say SO HAVE I THAT IS NO EXCUSE!!

Some of my best friends are 38. In fact, my BEST friend iS 38yo.

I love a bunch of people who are younger/older than me.

I am Asian.

Some of my best friends are Asian! (Coincidence, they’re just cool not a cultural thing)

I have friends that represent every color and ethnicity. The Olympics WISH they were as diverse as my Facebook list.

I love sushi.

Some of my best friends like to go out for sushi and sake and we’d eat tennis shoes if they came rolled up all cute.

There are also friends I get pasta with because the thought of raw fish makes them hurl a little.

I like vodka.

I just do.

If you don’t, you’re wrong.

I’m a hetero female.

Some of my best friends are hetero.

A bunch of my closest friends are gay or lesbian. Some are better with that discovery than others.

It isn’t right for me to say “I don’t see color”. I do. I see what makes you unique and different and beautiful. I see it. I see every color. I wouldn’t UN-see it for the world.

I adore my friends no matter where they chose to find love. Be they straight or gay, the only thing that truly matters deep down is whether they will buy me a pony

The me that blogs and talks to crowds of people circles the me that wears my pajama pants to the store.

The me that plays social media roulette circle the me that once had coffee with other parents of very sick kids.

Sometimes the worlds crash headfirst.

Social media shares a drink with a parent who lost a child. CRASH!

Uber-liberal blogger is chatting up conservative PTA parent. CRASH!

CRASH!

CRASH!

I loved it!

I don’t know. It may be because everyone was just being nice. If they were, it was great. Keep lying for me!

Mt worlds could not have crashed in better ways.

There were glittery, sparkly pieces left.

I swept all the memories away to take out later and just savor.

You can read about the difference between “I CAN’T” vs “I HAVEN’T, YET”

The girls have swam.

The boy has seen “Hunger Games” with friends.

I got to play a little catch-up with the faces I haven’t seen without the power of the monitors between us.

I have learned to love Georgia. The friends I’ve made. The life I’ve had a second chance to experience.
But it isn’t Brandon.

The place where I feel whole.

Complete.

I’m basking in these moments. Soaking them up.