In two weeks, possibly less if I am doing the actual math, The Teenager heads back to college, to her dorm, in a city that is not the one I live in with her. She is going into her sophomore year, a full-fledged member of the campus improv team, Swollen Monkey (Swomo for short), on the board of the standup collective, and with a tight knit group of friends, real friends. She has spent the summer interning during the day at a production company, working a job at a rooftop movie theatre, and doing stand up sets, including one at her own show, which she is now officially the producer and booker of. At about this time last summer, our living room was lined with piles of clothing, piles organized according to category (summer tops, winter tops, headbands), all in preparation for what I believed at the time was a year living in another city. I was melancholy about this moment, of us no longer being full-time roommates, I was nostalgic about the life we’d built as a family, I was excited for her to go to college and find her tribe. Now, with Freshman year under my belt, I know so much more. How much time, really, she will not be home, how much she will be coming home, how much I will see her. I know how missing her will feel. I have a glimpse too, into what living on my own will look like, part-time with her being in college, and full-time when college will be over. With almost two weeks left with her home, I’m doing a much smaller scale prep: stocking up on essential toiletries, and sheets, she does need a new set of Twin XL sheets. Everything else? Will get taken care of. Her fridge, her light system, her projector, her winter clothing, all of it is sitting in a storage space in her Other City, waiting for her to return. When she leaves for her sophomore year, she will have a realistic sense of what she needs, she won’t need to take volumes of things back to her dorm, just a suitcase filled with the Fall’s immediate fashion needs. And me? I just need to know she’s happy, and that, that I know the answer too. What a gift that is.

Loretta Ross: “We can change this culture. Calling-in is simply a call-out done with love.”

Elizabeth Warren. Badass.

What is it about the term “live, eat, and dream social media” that strikes fear in those of us Gen Xers.

Horoscope wisdom.

Fuck this bitch.

And now have a laugh with Michelle Buteau.