Hey, did you see that dead lion? I killed him! First, I had to bait him into leaving a protected area, and then I shot him with a crossbow. But even though I'm supposedly an excellent shot, I didn't actually kill him and he wandered around in pain for 40 hours. And then I shot him with a gun. Cool! And then I took off his collar, which showed he lived in an area where he was supposed to be protected. But it was too late then, so I skinned him and beheaded him. And I never had any clue that what I was doing wasn't totally legal, because, hell, I paid $55K to shoot him. And the guy who lured him out of the reserve swore it was legit. My bad. But it's really all about conservation, so this was a good thing. And now, his spirit will live on forever. In the display of his head. My bad about his 24 lion cubs who will now be killed by other male lions who want to take over the pride. But FREEDOM.

Cecil the Lion's Killer


Life with Tchoups

When we have steak for dinner, and no one saves a piece for Tchoups, he gives me the same look that my dad gave me in high school when he found out that I made up a fake weekend field trip, complete with faux permission slip, when I was really planning to spend the weekend partying w friends. "It's not so much that I'm angry with you. I am just SO DISAPPOINTED. It will take a while for you to earn my trust again." Sorry, Tchoups.


Gangsta's Paradise

Me, Kenny, and Emmeline driving in the car last weekend, while E is in the backseat listening to the iPod on headphones, loudly--
Kenny: Is she listening to Gangsta's Paradise?
Me: Yep. Her three favorite artists right now are Gladys Knight, Queen, and Coolio.


Life with Tchoups

If you are wondering at what age your golden retriever will stop obsessively following you around, complete w sniffing under the bathroom door to make sure you're still alive, the answer is 14 years and two months. I just tried to talk to Tchoups while he was on his bed, and his response was very much "OMFG, seriously? You want to discuss this NOW? Because I'm IN BED. I do NOT want to go on the porch with you. I'M SLEEPING." Thanks, Tchoups.


Year 1

I thought I was going to be all brave today. I thought I had done all of the crying and grieving that a person could possibly do in a year's time. That although I would be missing Kara today, and thinking about this anniversary, that I wouldn't cry. But then Van Morrison came on the radio, singing "everything I do, reminds me of you." And I had to sit in the parking garage at work and bawl, just like I did a year ago today.

Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone."
Gone where?
Gone from my sight. That is all.

Year 1 is done. On to year 2. Spent tonight having sushi w Krissie and watching Beverly get her Kara Lynn Morgan tattoo. And then watched a crane meander across the street in a place where cranes are not supposed to be. I'll take it. I hope we've done you proud. I miss you. I love you.



I often wonder what my brother Charles would be like if he had lived, especially on a night like tonight, when Garth Brooks played the arena, who was his favorite singer when he died in 2001 at the age of 22. Would he be partnered off now? Would he have kids? Would he still live on the coast? What would he do for a living? I know it's a pointless exercise to wonder what he would be like at 36, when he's been gone for 14 years, but I still do.



Things we have muddled through without you: your birthday; your funeral; space camp; head lice; Saints pre-season; the obligatory Katrinaversary; Saints regular season; no Saints post-season; trading a bunch of Saints; keeping Marques Colston (HOFSTRA, bitches); Darren Sharper; Mike Smith being fired; Rob Ryan being kept; Cris freaking Collinsworth being the announcer for the Saints/Cowboys game; Halloween and trick or treating; Krewe of Boo (although none of us went); Bill Cosby; Thanksgiving; Genevieve; Christmas; New Year's Eve; Twelfth Night; Joey's birthday; Stuart Smith dying; Beverly's birthday; Krewe du Vieux; parades, parades, PARADES; and parades, always parades; Al's death; Emmeline and Beau's birthdays; St. Patrick's Day and the resultant PARADES; St. Joseph's night; Easter; French Quarter Fest; Darren Sharper, again; Jazz Fest; Mother's Day; Trey's birthday; fourth grade; ISL PARADE; your NOLAversary; Krissie's birthday; Obamacare affirmed; an engagement in Houston; my birthday; gay marriage legalized. And crying. Lots of crying. But also, laughter, and love, and Kara-ing on. And now, in a little over a week, it will be your birthday again. Preceded just one day by the anniversary of your death. And we will do it all over again. I miss you. I love you. It will never be the same, but we still laugh and we still love. And I love an amazing bunch of people, all of whom I met through you. Thank you.