Helping out parents usually means running errands, going shopping, or cleaning around the house, not grooming giraffes. But I’ve never claimed my family is normal. The  last time I went to their house, I noticed this:

It looked like a horror movie Swamp Monster, not like the stately giraffe my mom designed. Something had to be done, so I went to work, shearing the topiary of its excess ivy (which grows like a weed, in case you didn’t know). My mom was delighted until I accidentally trimmed part of his nose. “Relax, Mom, it’s ivy. He’ll have a nose again in no time.” I continued channeling my inner Edward Scissorhands, realizing that the beautiful topiary animals you see in parks and castle grounds are not so easy to keep perfectly lush. Gardeners are tending those meticulously.

I, on the other hand, did a hack job. Gerard once again looks like a giraffe, but a modern art giraffe out of a Picasso painting. Plus, he’s bald in a few spots. Then again, it’s ivy. He’ll be handsome and verdant in no time.

Where am I? ¿Dónde está Guernica?