As much time as I’ve had to prepare and process, and as many friends as have written similar words in recent weeks and months, it’s hard to wrap my mind around what I’m about to say. This past Thursday, May 30, we said goodbye to my dad, Jerry Metz. Since being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in November 2021, he’d been living a remarkably full and busy life until quite recently. Despite chemo, radiation, and more hospitalizations, surgeries, and setbacks than he willingly admitted, he squeezed in a dream trip to France with mom, Andy, and me, Spain and Portugal with mom, several visits to us in Los Angeles, continued rehearsing and performing with Monmouth Civic Chorus and Princeton Pro Musica, and working on his endless list of projects at the cabin in the Berkshires. In a few months, he and mom would have marked their 54th anniversary, more in love than ever. I could tell he was powering through more pain than he let on, but that was dad. He loved his life too much to slow down until he had no choice, and when that time came, we said goodbye at home, all together, on his terms, which anyone who knew him will understand is exactly as it should be. We loved each other madly and drove each other (and my mother) crazy because one of the many things I inherited from him is his tenacity–or unshakable stubbornness, depending on your perspective. As people keep telling me, my eyes, my voice, my mannerisms, and so many things that are me were also… him. All my life, anyone who knew him took one look at me and knew I was his kid. It’s going to take a long, long time to get used to being in the world without him, but I already hear him in my mind and heart, answering questions I didn’t ask, filling us in on the latest cooking techniques he learned from Jacques Pepin, and telling me how to do things I’ve known how to do for decades–all in that rich, beautiful, booming voice that resonates over every other sound in the world. Anyone wishing to honor him, please consider supporting @monmouthcivicchorusnj @princetonpromusica and/or @compassionandchoices And *please*, if you have Ashkenazi Jewish ancestry, get tested for BRCA 1 & 2. ❤️
As much time as I’ve had to prepare and process, and as many friends as have written similar words in recent weeks and months, it’s hard to wrap my mind around what I’m about to say. This past Thursday, May 30, we said goodbye to my dad, Jerry Metz. Since being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in November 2021, he’d been living a remarkably full and busy life until quite recently. Despite chemo, radiation, and more hospitalizations, surgeries, and setbacks than he willingly admitted, he squeezed in a dream trip to France with mom, Andy, and me, Spain and Portugal with mom, several visits to us in Los Angeles, continued rehearsing and performing with Monmouth Civic Chorus and Princeton Pro Musica, and working on his endless list of projects at the cabin in the Berkshires. In a few months, he and mom would have marked their 54th anniversary, more in love than ever. I could tell he was powering through more pain than he let on, but that was dad. He loved his life too much to slow down until he had no choice, and when that time came, we said goodbye at home, all together, on his terms, which anyone who knew him will understand is exactly as it should be. We loved each other madly and drove each other (and my mother) crazy because one of the many things I inherited from him is his tenacity–or unshakable stubbornness, depending on your perspective. As people keep telling me, my eyes, my voice, my mannerisms, and so many things that are me were also… him. All my life, anyone who knew him took one look at me and knew I was his kid. It’s going to take a long, long time to get used to being in the world without him, but I already hear him in my mind and heart, answering questions I didn’t ask, filling us in on the latest cooking techniques he learned from Jacques Pepin, and telling me how to do things I’ve known how to do for decades–all in that rich, beautiful, booming voice that resonates over every other sound in the world. Anyone wishing to honor him, please consider supporting @monmouthcivicchorusnj @princetonpromusica and/or @compassionandchoices And *please*, if you have Ashkenazi Jewish ancestry, get tested for BRCA 1 & 2. ❤️
As much time as I’ve had to prepare and process, and as many friends as have written similar words in recent weeks and months, it’s hard to wrap my mind around what I’m about to say. This past Thursday, May 30, we said goodbye to my dad, Jerry Metz. Since being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in November 2021, he’d been living a remarkably full and busy life until quite recently. Despite chemo, radiation, and more hospitalizations, surgeries, and setbacks than he willingly admitted, he squeezed in a dream trip to France with mom, Andy, and me, Spain and Portugal with mom, several visits to us in Los Angeles, continued rehearsing and performing with Monmouth Civic Chorus and Princeton Pro Musica, and working on his endless list of projects at the cabin in the Berkshires. In a few months, he and mom would have marked their 54th anniversary, more in love than ever. I could tell he was powering through more pain than he let on, but that was dad. He loved his life too much to slow down until he had no choice, and when that time came, we said goodbye at home, all together, on his terms, which anyone who knew him will understand is exactly as it should be. We loved each other madly and drove each other (and my mother) crazy because one of the many things I inherited from him is his tenacity–or unshakable stubbornness, depending on your perspective. As people keep telling me, my eyes, my voice, my mannerisms, and so many things that are me were also… him. All my life, anyone who knew him took one look at me and knew I was his kid. It’s going to take a long, long time to get used to being in the world without him, but I already hear him in my mind and heart, answering questions I didn’t ask, filling us in on the latest cooking techniques he learned from Jacques Pepin, and telling me how to do things I’ve known how to do for decades–all in that rich, beautiful, booming voice that resonates over every other sound in the world. Anyone wishing to honor him, please consider supporting @monmouthcivicchorusnj @princetonpromusica and/or @compassionandchoices And *please*, if you have Ashkenazi Jewish ancestry, get tested for BRCA 1 & 2. ❤️
As much time as I’ve had to prepare and process, and as many friends as have written similar words in recent weeks and months, it’s hard to wrap my mind around what I’m about to say. This past Thursday, May 30, we said goodbye to my dad, Jerry Metz. Since being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in November 2021, he’d been living a remarkably full and busy life until quite recently. Despite chemo, radiation, and more hospitalizations, surgeries, and setbacks than he willingly admitted, he squeezed in a dream trip to France with mom, Andy, and me, Spain and Portugal with mom, several visits to us in Los Angeles, continued rehearsing and performing with Monmouth Civic Chorus and Princeton Pro Musica, and working on his endless list of projects at the cabin in the Berkshires. In a few months, he and mom would have marked their 54th anniversary, more in love than ever. I could tell he was powering through more pain than he let on, but that was dad. He loved his life too much to slow down until he had no choice, and when that time came, we said goodbye at home, all together, on his terms, which anyone who knew him will understand is exactly as it should be. We loved each other madly and drove each other (and my mother) crazy because one of the many things I inherited from him is his tenacity–or unshakable stubbornness, depending on your perspective. As people keep telling me, my eyes, my voice, my mannerisms, and so many things that are me were also… him. All my life, anyone who knew him took one look at me and knew I was his kid. It’s going to take a long, long time to get used to being in the world without him, but I already hear him in my mind and heart, answering questions I didn’t ask, filling us in on the latest cooking techniques he learned from Jacques Pepin, and telling me how to do things I’ve known how to do for decades–all in that rich, beautiful, booming voice that resonates over every other sound in the world. Anyone wishing to honor him, please consider supporting @monmouthcivicchorusnj @princetonpromusica and/or @compassionandchoices And *please*, if you have Ashkenazi Jewish ancestry, get tested for BRCA 1 & 2. ❤️
As much time as I’ve had to prepare and process, and as many friends as have written similar words in recent weeks and months, it’s hard to wrap my mind around what I’m about to say. This past Thursday, May 30, we said goodbye to my dad, Jerry Metz. Since being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in November 2021, he’d been living a remarkably full and busy life until quite recently. Despite chemo, radiation, and more hospitalizations, surgeries, and setbacks than he willingly admitted, he squeezed in a dream trip to France with mom, Andy, and me, Spain and Portugal with mom, several visits to us in Los Angeles, continued rehearsing and performing with Monmouth Civic Chorus and Princeton Pro Musica, and working on his endless list of projects at the cabin in the Berkshires. In a few months, he and mom would have marked their 54th anniversary, more in love than ever. I could tell he was powering through more pain than he let on, but that was dad. He loved his life too much to slow down until he had no choice, and when that time came, we said goodbye at home, all together, on his terms, which anyone who knew him will understand is exactly as it should be. We loved each other madly and drove each other (and my mother) crazy because one of the many things I inherited from him is his tenacity–or unshakable stubbornness, depending on your perspective. As people keep telling me, my eyes, my voice, my mannerisms, and so many things that are me were also… him. All my life, anyone who knew him took one look at me and knew I was his kid. It’s going to take a long, long time to get used to being in the world without him, but I already hear him in my mind and heart, answering questions I didn’t ask, filling us in on the latest cooking techniques he learned from Jacques Pepin, and telling me how to do things I’ve known how to do for decades–all in that rich, beautiful, booming voice that resonates over every other sound in the world. Anyone wishing to honor him, please consider supporting @monmouthcivicchorusnj @princetonpromusica and/or @compassionandchoices And *please*, if you have Ashkenazi Jewish ancestry, get tested for BRCA 1 & 2. ❤️
As much time as I’ve had to prepare and process, and as many friends as have written similar words in recent weeks and months, it’s hard to wrap my mind around what I’m about to say. This past Thursday, May 30, we said goodbye to my dad, Jerry Metz. Since being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in November 2021, he’d been living a remarkably full and busy life until quite recently. Despite chemo, radiation, and more hospitalizations, surgeries, and setbacks than he willingly admitted, he squeezed in a dream trip to France with mom, Andy, and me, Spain and Portugal with mom, several visits to us in Los Angeles, continued rehearsing and performing with Monmouth Civic Chorus and Princeton Pro Musica, and working on his endless list of projects at the cabin in the Berkshires. In a few months, he and mom would have marked their 54th anniversary, more in love than ever. I could tell he was powering through more pain than he let on, but that was dad. He loved his life too much to slow down until he had no choice, and when that time came, we said goodbye at home, all together, on his terms, which anyone who knew him will understand is exactly as it should be. We loved each other madly and drove each other (and my mother) crazy because one of the many things I inherited from him is his tenacity–or unshakable stubbornness, depending on your perspective. As people keep telling me, my eyes, my voice, my mannerisms, and so many things that are me were also… him. All my life, anyone who knew him took one look at me and knew I was his kid. It’s going to take a long, long time to get used to being in the world without him, but I already hear him in my mind and heart, answering questions I didn’t ask, filling us in on the latest cooking techniques he learned from Jacques Pepin, and telling me how to do things I’ve known how to do for decades–all in that rich, beautiful, booming voice that resonates over every other sound in the world. Anyone wishing to honor him, please consider supporting @monmouthcivicchorusnj @princetonpromusica and/or @compassionandchoices And *please*, if you have Ashkenazi Jewish ancestry, get tested for BRCA 1 & 2. ❤️
As much time as I’ve had to prepare and process, and as many friends as have written similar words in recent weeks and months, it’s hard to wrap my mind around what I’m about to say. This past Thursday, May 30, we said goodbye to my dad, Jerry Metz. Since being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in November 2021, he’d been living a remarkably full and busy life until quite recently. Despite chemo, radiation, and more hospitalizations, surgeries, and setbacks than he willingly admitted, he squeezed in a dream trip to France with mom, Andy, and me, Spain and Portugal with mom, several visits to us in Los Angeles, continued rehearsing and performing with Monmouth Civic Chorus and Princeton Pro Musica, and working on his endless list of projects at the cabin in the Berkshires. In a few months, he and mom would have marked their 54th anniversary, more in love than ever. I could tell he was powering through more pain than he let on, but that was dad. He loved his life too much to slow down until he had no choice, and when that time came, we said goodbye at home, all together, on his terms, which anyone who knew him will understand is exactly as it should be. We loved each other madly and drove each other (and my mother) crazy because one of the many things I inherited from him is his tenacity–or unshakable stubbornness, depending on your perspective. As people keep telling me, my eyes, my voice, my mannerisms, and so many things that are me were also… him. All my life, anyone who knew him took one look at me and knew I was his kid. It’s going to take a long, long time to get used to being in the world without him, but I already hear him in my mind and heart, answering questions I didn’t ask, filling us in on the latest cooking techniques he learned from Jacques Pepin, and telling me how to do things I’ve known how to do for decades–all in that rich, beautiful, booming voice that resonates over every other sound in the world. Anyone wishing to honor him, please consider supporting @monmouthcivicchorusnj @princetonpromusica and/or @compassionandchoices And *please*, if you have Ashkenazi Jewish ancestry, get tested for BRCA 1 & 2. ❤️
As much time as I’ve had to prepare and process, and as many friends as have written similar words in recent weeks and months, it’s hard to wrap my mind around what I’m about to say. This past Thursday, May 30, we said goodbye to my dad, Jerry Metz. Since being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in November 2021, he’d been living a remarkably full and busy life until quite recently. Despite chemo, radiation, and more hospitalizations, surgeries, and setbacks than he willingly admitted, he squeezed in a dream trip to France with mom, Andy, and me, Spain and Portugal with mom, several visits to us in Los Angeles, continued rehearsing and performing with Monmouth Civic Chorus and Princeton Pro Musica, and working on his endless list of projects at the cabin in the Berkshires. In a few months, he and mom would have marked their 54th anniversary, more in love than ever. I could tell he was powering through more pain than he let on, but that was dad. He loved his life too much to slow down until he had no choice, and when that time came, we said goodbye at home, all together, on his terms, which anyone who knew him will understand is exactly as it should be. We loved each other madly and drove each other (and my mother) crazy because one of the many things I inherited from him is his tenacity–or unshakable stubbornness, depending on your perspective. As people keep telling me, my eyes, my voice, my mannerisms, and so many things that are me were also… him. All my life, anyone who knew him took one look at me and knew I was his kid. It’s going to take a long, long time to get used to being in the world without him, but I already hear him in my mind and heart, answering questions I didn’t ask, filling us in on the latest cooking techniques he learned from Jacques Pepin, and telling me how to do things I’ve known how to do for decades–all in that rich, beautiful, booming voice that resonates over every other sound in the world. Anyone wishing to honor him, please consider supporting @monmouthcivicchorusnj @princetonpromusica and/or @compassionandchoices And *please*, if you have Ashkenazi Jewish ancestry, get tested for BRCA 1 & 2. ❤️
Just saw the news that Audrey died last night. It may seem strange to mourn a giraffe, but Audrey meant a lot to me. She–specifically a photo of her beaming proudly between a bride and groom–is the reason I latched on to the idea of getting married at @santabarbarazoo. And why we’ve ended up with a lot of weird & beautiful giraffe art/tchotchkes. And this photo of Dad feeding her… Well. It’s precious to me. Goodbye, sweet Audrey. Rest easy.
Just saw the news that Audrey died last night. It may seem strange to mourn a giraffe, but Audrey meant a lot to me. She–specifically a photo of her beaming proudly between a bride and groom–is the reason I latched on to the idea of getting married at @santabarbarazoo. And why we’ve ended up with a lot of weird & beautiful giraffe art/tchotchkes. And this photo of Dad feeding her… Well. It’s precious to me. Goodbye, sweet Audrey. Rest easy.
Just saw the news that Audrey died last night. It may seem strange to mourn a giraffe, but Audrey meant a lot to me. She–specifically a photo of her beaming proudly between a bride and groom–is the reason I latched on to the idea of getting married at @santabarbarazoo. And why we’ve ended up with a lot of weird & beautiful giraffe art/tchotchkes. And this photo of Dad feeding her… Well. It’s precious to me. Goodbye, sweet Audrey. Rest easy.
Today is @andyhermannla’s birthday. He’s the love of my life, the aisle to my window, and this year more than most, the person keeping me loved, fed, and functional when I don’t have the oomph to do it myself. I’m a few thousand miles away from him today, so please help me send a ton of birthday love his way. And maybe buy the man a drink. Good gravy, does he deserve it.
Today is @andyhermannla’s birthday. He’s the love of my life, the aisle to my window, and this year more than most, the person keeping me loved, fed, and functional when I don’t have the oomph to do it myself. I’m a few thousand miles away from him today, so please help me send a ton of birthday love his way. And maybe buy the man a drink. Good gravy, does he deserve it.
Today is @andyhermannla’s birthday. He’s the love of my life, the aisle to my window, and this year more than most, the person keeping me loved, fed, and functional when I don’t have the oomph to do it myself. I’m a few thousand miles away from him today, so please help me send a ton of birthday love his way. And maybe buy the man a drink. Good gravy, does he deserve it.
Today is @andyhermannla’s birthday. He’s the love of my life, the aisle to my window, and this year more than most, the person keeping me loved, fed, and functional when I don’t have the oomph to do it myself. I’m a few thousand miles away from him today, so please help me send a ton of birthday love his way. And maybe buy the man a drink. Good gravy, does he deserve it.
To every person who has reached out, shown up, and sent love, thank you a million times over… I have felt it all. And extra deep, tear-soaked, red-sauce-stained gratitude to these three forever ride-or-dies. I must have done something good in this life to deserve to be loved so well.
Farmers market yesterday & @krimsonstudio today. When the universe sends you love notes, TAKE ‘EM. Ooh universe, you big ol’ flirt 😍
Farmers market yesterday & @krimsonstudio today. When the universe sends you love notes, TAKE ‘EM. Ooh universe, you big ol’ flirt 😍
Farmers market yesterday & @krimsonstudio today. When the universe sends you love notes, TAKE ‘EM. Ooh universe, you big ol’ flirt 😍
Farmers market yesterday & @krimsonstudio today. When the universe sends you love notes, TAKE ‘EM. Ooh universe, you big ol’ flirt 😍
This owl used to live with my grandparents in Queens & is as shocked as anyone to discover that he truly loves LA.
I just told her I forgot how time works for a sec
(Not my best camera work. Pre-coffee.) Every other week, Tallulah sees her favorite person (who also very kindly cleans our house.) Tallulah rarely makes a peep but she chirps and squeaks and chats with Secelia, who baby talks to her the whole time. It’s one of my very favorite things.
This smoke show has normal thyroid levels #catbrag
