Last week we hosted a barbecue at my parent's house with some friends and I had a conversation in which I was told that I was not a very attractive (read: ugly) baby. And then some. It went like this. 

I was in the kitchen making bruschetta, minding my business. My boyfriend was beside me and there were some people in the living room nearby playing cards. One of the guys in the living room looked up at the wall and commented on the baby pictures of me and and my sister Laura. 

"You weren't a very good looking baby or toddler," says my admiring boyfriend.

From across the room: "Hey tiffany, you look almost exactly the same now as you did back then!" 

Poor, poor timing hahaha. In my defense, I was scared of strangers (and everything for that matter) when I was a baby. So a stranger professionally taking my photo was just asking for a weepy eyed, red faced me.

But nonetheless, here's to hoping my own baby will be cuter :)

Crash.

On my way home today there was an accident on the high way. Car flipped, glass every where, car parts scattered and crushed, the way we would flatten soda cans in high school, stomping quick and fast with our converse sneakers. Rubber against metal, metal against road. We're not supposed to see the innards of a car.

It had just happened, and the cops weren't even there yet, but within minutes I saw flashing lights behind me, a police car weaving its way through confused drivers sitting in traffic, not yet aware of how serious the accident was.  It's astounding how easily a tragedy can become a mere inconvenience. How many times have I sat annoyed, accelerating and braking impatiently to get ahead of an accident. Gotta go gotta go. The frightened victims and the totaled car becomes just a rock to move around, like an ant in a long line of ants taking a detour and mindlessly drumming on. I'll cluck sympathetically, shake my head to say that I shook my head to show some compassion, and then move on. This time. Well this time I didn't even wait long in traffic. It was a fresh wound, and there were no cops or time or long lines of cars to buffer. What did I do? I clucked sympathetically, longer than I usually would. I shook my head, a couple more times than I usually would. Then moved on. On on on.

But it stays with me still and I can't shake it off. Maybe I shouldn't shake it off. Maybe it's not supposed to leave.