3rd grade. she wore go-go boots & lipstick & short skirts that even a 3rd grader could recognize as chic. i vaguely recall that she was related to the golfer. i clearly recall my crush on her. she wasn't like other teachers.
I'm a cook. And I write, sometimes about food, mostly poems. I make stuff. I get lost. I'm worried about vanishing bees, melting icecaps, the decrease of civility in the world, seedless watermelons, and whether there will be enough time for me to get it all right.