Well, the thing about Zack (and, of course, by transit, Ben) is that he can just sap you of all energy. I mean, the morning walkies thing and the insistence on the leash alone is crippling, especially if you're like me and don't get back to it easily. Couple that with the idiosyncrasies about the brown m&ms and the fixation with elasticity (yes, it does go as you age, and checking it constantly doesn't change that) and he basically needs a fiull-time staff just for entertainment. Of course, the obsession with pies isn't so much exhausting as tedious. Putting odd things in between two layers of pastry does NOT a pie make, nor, I can tell you, does it make unsavory objects/items any more palateable.
The relatives will, of course, make constant sport. I can't tell you how many times I had to deny that I'd had cosmetic bonding done on my teeth - and the questions about American obesity were as incessant as they were inappropriate. I'm not in the cohort. I don't represent the cohort. I'm not responsible for the condition of the cohort. And, you can tell your uncle: no, not all of "the colonists" look, act, or speak like "Honey Boo-boo's mum".
Of course, I write all this but it just doesn't make the longing or hurt go away. I miss you Zack, but mother taught me to be better to myself. Nonetheless, I'll never forget those times, those precious moments, we shared - you, me, Ben, and that inbred midget you kept calling Fudgie.
