“Now, okay, important knitting life lesson right here: don’t go acrylic. Just don’t. Acrylic’s what you’re gonna find at, like, Wal-Mart, and acrylic is crap. I have it on good authority that it’s like knitting with barbed wire, that it’s… — Hannah Johnson Copy Share Image
“That’s the kinda stuff that you’ve gotta figure out on your own, I think. Soul searching’s one of those things you do alone.” Mitch and I sit in impressed silence at this wise reflection upon the nature of existence. “Like… — Hannah Johnson Copy Share Image
“Now, okay, important knitting life lesson right here: don’t go acrylic. Just don’t. Acrylic’s what you’re gonna find at, like, Wal-Mart, and acrylic is… — Hannah Johnson Copy Share Image
“Afterwards, we don’t head straight back to work. Instead, we stop at McDonald’s. Kristy gets a Happy Meal. Cora gets like four pies, which… — Hannah Johnson Copy Share Image
“I’ve got this perception of Beethoven where he’s just, like, really pissed all the time. Yeah, ol’ Ludwig, he had a lot to pound… — Hannah Johnson Copy Share Image
“Kristy smiles at both of us, the kind of smile that makes Julie Andrews look like a jaded crack whore.” — Hannah Johnson Copy Share Image
“Arthur reaches over to take them. As he does, his thumb brushes my thumb, and it’s so cold, this sudden shock of cold. The… — Hannah Johnson Copy Share Image
“I use my mom’s shampoo sometimes,” I blurt out. “I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s lady shampoo. But it smells better than mine,… — Hannah Johnson Copy Share Image
“Arthur finally winds up just linking his arm through mine, real tight, and we walk really slow. There are other people around, but I… — Hannah Johnson Copy Share Image
“Mitch is perhaps the most reassuring sight of all. He’s sitting up really straight – like, somebody put a leather-bound tome on his head,… — Hannah Johnson Copy Share Image
“Shhh,” she orders, reaching across the table and pressing her finger against my lips. “This is Mommy’s Lifetime monologue.” — Hannah Johnson Copy Share Image
“He doesn’t quite kiss me, even though he’s close enough to. I look at him, loving the quiet and the quirk of his mouth… — Hannah Johnson Copy Share Image
“I spot something that looks distinctly footstoolish. Hello, antique ottoman. We meet at last.” — Hannah Johnson Copy Share Image
“This is going to be hideously trite,” he says. “Prepare yourself.” “Prepared.” “It’s Christmas. You love them. They love you. More than anything else,… — Hannah Johnson Copy Share Image
