There’s something about breakdancing that, whether I can or not, makes me want to try it. I probably should have started when I was a nimble, back-flipping, pre-adolescent gymnast with health insurance.
The other day, the bigwidesky family received news – through a surreal game of “telephone” – that Skye was dead. A shock to us all – especially Lana – Matt and I haphazardly switched to “panic mode” and went across the street for sushi. “Drinking all the chilled saké in the world won’t bring him back,” we lamented.