I’ve had an internal monolog running in my head since I was probably 3-4 years old. I know I spent a lot of those first aware years—between 3 and 5—firing questions at my father almost non-stop. Asking him why this, or why that. Questions he always patiently answered. And, despite my best efforts, he always, but always, had an answer for me. Whether any of those answers were scientifically correct was neither here nor there. If I wanted to know why whales had holes on the top of the head, my father had an answer for me. Our routine got so that he started calling me, Miss Why. He would come home from work, and we would share dinner together—this mostly because at the time I refused to eat all day long till Daddy came home, and I insisted then on eating what he ate. This phase lasted a very long time, throughout the three years we lived in Hong Kong I think. What broke that particular streak? Him having tripe (sheep’s intestines and stomach …

Of course, all events that happened in, this is a day in the life of … happened yesterday so I could post it as today’s #NaBloPoMo offering. Time I woke up: 5:15 a.m. Yeah, I wasn’t happy I can tell you. Stupid bladder. First thing I did upon waking: Go for a pee … no, seriously. I have a bladder the size of a thimble. Today’s weather: Wild and stormy. The winds are lashing the trees outside. Something I spent money on today: A freshly baked baguette. An out-of-the-ordinary thing that happened today: The kitchen sink backed up, again. We’ve been waiting 2 weeks to get the drain(s) seen to. Every time someone’s dishwasher or washing machine empties, our sink backs up with water and bubbles. We’ve had two mini floods already. Last thing I read (not on the Internet): The back of a noodle packet we’re having as part of dinner tonight. Last thing I read (on the Internet): Comments on my blog, checking to see who I need to answer. Last text I sent: …

No, not that Sliders, the TV show from way back when. But ice cream. A specific ice cream from my childhood. I have fond memories of a time whenever my father was deployed in the UK in between postings abroad, mostly to do training. courses As a Master Armourer, he often had these short postings of several months or more that my mother took full advantage of. She would take what she called her second family, that would be us: the three smaller, younger kids. Abandon my father—along with my three older siblings (all at school and able to look after themselves)—and do a mini 2-3 week holiday in Scotland to see her family. Specifically, her sister, Margaret.