do you think they have facebook in heaven?

A:  Do you think they have Facebook in heaven?
B:  Nah, they have better things to do.
A:  Hmm.  Do you think they have Facebook in hell?
B:  No way, dude.  No pleasures in hell.
(Pause, while A. considers this.)
A:  Do you think they have Facebook in limbo?
(Pause, while B. considers this.)
B:  Facebook is limbo.

The sixteenth anniversary of my older sister's death came and went.  I buffered myself with a visit from my long-time friend, Megan.  A pedicure.  A pancake.  A few drinks as the sun set on the Sarasota water.  The subject did not go untouched, but it did not drag the day into a melancholy ditch, as I have been known to burrow on other occasions.  When the moon replaced the sun on February fourth this year, it literally smiled on Megan and me.  (And, you know, dear readers, how infrequently I use the word "literally.")  The moon appeared as just a sliver of a thing, but turned on its butt with its pointy ends up.  In the middle of the sky!  It was impossible to document on my digital camera, so you must just take my word for it.
Lots of people remembered her, my deceased sister, on Facebook, which I find sweet, and yet, odd, in this way:  having died in 1995, she would not even know what "Facebook" is.  

Directions from NY to the Czech Republic

My Little Sister moved to Prague.  I'm not gonna lie to you, it hurts.  She will, I am certain, understand when she reads this that I am not after sympathy here, nor am I trying to guilt her.  But we lost our older sister fifteen years ago to a teenage drunk driver in Toledo, Ohio in the dead of fucking February around one o'clock in the morning. 

fixation

I don't know why we do it to ourselves.

I had an episode on Monday which illustrates this befuddlement at human behavior.

I was driving to St. Petersburg when the rain came.  CAME.  And kept coming.  I knew where I was going, but it was so heavy that visibility was limited to just a few feet ahead.

(Mom, you might want to skip this part.)

I am pretty good in these situations.  I grip the wheel a little tighter and lean forward, but I remember to breathe and I talk to myself to ease the tension.  Other drivers had pulled off to the side of the highway but we were on a bridge and it just didn't seem any safer.  Plus...