My parent's were very generous with me, they took me to a lot of places in my life. New York City, San Fran, Yosemite, Seattle, Portland, England, Scotland, Germany, Austria, Italy. Their generosity was best because it never came with any guilt, they were happy to do it. They wanted to show me what they could, and that made them happy. But this
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England, this past summer: Adam and I wanted to go to Newcastle with our friend Emily. We were in Lanchester, an hour away. The grandparents were shocked, shocked and grievously appalled, that we wanted to visit this city of vice, harlots, and los drogges. Daddy was torn.
And apparently, despite their age, they have acute senses of smell. So my little cigarette forays down Ornsby Hill Lane did not go unnoticed, I believe. I had hoped to convince them of my unwaning devotion to Nature, despite sleet, rain, and fair weather too. Or possibly Adam was returning the favor, as I had told Granny that he had tattoos. I don't know why he cared; Granny adored them. In fact, every one of her little old English lady friends we visited, she made him take off his shirt to show them the artwork. Maybe, actually, that would have done it. You know, I bet he did tell them. That cretin. I'm almost convinced of it. Damn it.
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unwavering devotion to nature.
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