tavie.com

He's back! My coffee guy's back and I'm feelin' cute!

You know what I realized? I've been corresponding by email, lately, with the person who taught me how to blow my nose. Isn't that something? I've been writing back and forth with Asti, whom I've mentioned before here. I have a lot of adopted big-sisters but she's the closest thing I have to a real one. She's the big sister of my friend Andrew, the 17-year-old goth child with whom I've been acquainted since his birth (and of my friend Adam, who is Kirsten's and my age, and we all spent the first 10 years or so of our lives growing up practically as brothers and sisters in that 2-family house in Brooklyn.) Anyhow, Asti's living a wildly enviable life in London, making tons of money and living in a gorgeous flat with a gorgeous British hunk of a husband. She's 10 years older than Kirsten and Adam and I. When we were little we used to think she was Madonna. No, I'm serious. We'd confuse the two. (And, hey, come to think of it, they're both living in London now... hmmm....)

And I remembered that when I was little, maybe three or four, she was babysitting the three of us. (This must have been just before Andrew was born.) And we were on the couch downstairs in their apartment. I think there was a candle burning. And I had a cold. My nose was stuffed. And I kept (okay, this is gross, no one read on please) sucking it back in. And finally she grabbed a tissue, sat down in front of me, held it up to my nose, and sat down and said, "Now blow out through your nose." And I did and oh, the wonder of it! It emptied right on out! What magic! Why had no one taught me this before? What was wrong with my parents, not teaching me how to empty out my nasal passages?

So, anyway, Asti rules.

Wow, what a disgusting entry. Back to work.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:28 AM | shower me with attention