Today, on the ride to eastern Massachusetts from Wesleyan, my father and I had a conversation lasting about an hour about whether or not I had been to California more than once. The hope was that, by recalling memories from California, one would prove if I had been there once or twice. For instance, I know I was there for Christmas once, so the memories of hot tubbing outdoors suggested I had been more than once. In an attempt to organize my thoughts, I said "Well, what I remember from San Franciso was going to the bodega and getting Sour Punch Straws, and accidently dropping my bag of peanut butter M&Ms (the best kind) off a cable car."
That's just how I roll.
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