My favorite Thai restaurant is stashed away in a nondescript strip mall. It’s busy — I admit to feeling a little smug watching the line snake out the door and down the sidewalk just after I’ve snagged the last table. The aromas, the spice, the fact that the chef takes my request for heat seriously…
Ghosts
I’ve been reading sections of my old journals, because apparently I’m masochistic. (There’s nothing like re-visiting a 20-something version of yourself who spouts off assured philosophies that life has yet to test.) Still, despite the general cringe-worthiness, I re-read periodically, usually zeroing in on the same time frame. I’m convinced that there’s a reason I’m…
