From my weekend at home:

- I was feeding the dogs, in the order I always do. I pulled the first bowl out from under the hamper and filled it before I remembered Sweetie had died. 'Oh. Yeah,' I thought, pouring the contents into the next dog's bowl.
- I'm twenty, I whispered to my fourth grade teacher, like a confession.
- Here's why Houston will always be the best: the overlapping personal histories. I can't get enough of them. I drove by St. Ceceilia's, the church where Frances' father's funeral was, Sarah's old school, the place I learned to drive a car, and the last landmark before Walker's house. It's the type of thing you only get from years and years of living in a place. Similar to ink stones that are grinded to a unique shape by a calligrapher after years of use, or the coffee you get from a percolator that's been used for years.
- I like my parents more than I ever have before in my entire life! Whoa!