I joke about #teamnoketchup (on eggs) because it’s just something to tease about but if you like ketchup on your eggs, I’ll make sure there’s some in the house when you come to visit.

When I was a kid, I loved to draw. I loved art. It didn’t matter if I was good at it, I loved it. My father told me I was really bad at it and I’d never make a living at it so I should stop. He ruined years of pleasure before I regained my interest again but I can never go back and rebuild what I lost.

I was also made to feel ashamed of reading. Ashamed is the wrong word. I was emotionally and verbally abused… and sometimes struck… for reading a book. I was asked if I thought I was better than everyone, smarter than everyone, simply because I loved to read.

It was my escape from a violent and painful time in my life. Reading turned into storytelling in my head. I could turn inward and shape worlds. And I continued to read. Because if I didn’t, I had no other way out.

So let people enjoy their things. Simple things like a fall drink or sweetened tomato sauce over their eggs.

Shitting on them can ruin a pleasure. (And do not make that weird).