Tagwoodsmoke

My New Uncle

This post goes too far. A superior edit of it first appeared on In The Powder Room and being a little bit removed provided some cover. But now I’m including it on this blog and it may be too much for those who know me.

In fact, if you’re: my mom, my mother-in-law, Kirsten, Cristina, anyone who works with me, Brian, Jennie, Maggie, Claudio, anyone I’ve ever gone to school with, anyone who is friends with me on Facebook, residents of Chicago and Indiana and the United States, English speakers, and non-English speakers, then you must skip this post.  Here, read about the time I stole some doughnuts.

To anyone who is still cleared to read: just promise me we will never meet in real life after you’re done reading. Because I won’t be able to make eye contact.

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ICE BOX

When I was twelve, my aunt bought a trailer and dropped it in a gravel parking lot in Monticello, Indiana. It was her summer home. Every weekend she would drive the two and a half hours to sit in air conditioned gloom and read while my cousins bothered her for quarters to play at the arcade that was further up the lot.

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Beating the beaten path.

by Jeff

It’s my job to abduct the children every weekend. To give Jill a break. Usually on Sunday. Continue reading