I love imperfect neighborhoods.

I love imperfectly clean rooms.

I love imperfect books.

I love imperfectly made clothing.

I love imperfect answers.

I love imperfect feelings.

I love imperfect students.

I love imperfect friends.

I try to love my own imperfect production the same way that I love all the imperfect things around me, and it’s so hard, because I have such a nattering mean voice in my head that points out every flaw in everything I do.

I got dear Captain Cookie out of the shelter 3 years ago today. He had one eye and three legs and he was the best dog ever.

Someday perhaps I shall love all my imperfects the way I love everybody else’s.