1. I was filling my water bottle in the kitchen and heard a bang in the living room. I came around the corner to find The Girl sprawled on her back, an X-shape, holding the remote control. I'd never wish it on her, but she looks hilarious after she falls. She takes up as much space with her body as she can and then just moves her eyes as she tries to figure out what happened between her feet failing her and landing like this. It's like a cartoon version of What it Looks Like to Fall.
Anyway: "Shake," she said, still on her back and pushing the remote toward me. Translation: She took a digger trying to grab the remote control so she could watch the video for "Shake it Off." But now I was here to help her.
2. She's started saying "oh, sure" in response to everything that doesn't get an automatic no. The "oh" comes like she's surprised. She's like "Do I want Applesauce? From the cupboard that is filled with various flavors of applesauce that I eat every single day? Oh! Sure!"
The "sure" sounds more like "shoe-er." The Norwegian Wonder pointed out today that it sounds very Minnesotan. None of us know where this came from, though I heard Chuck use the word "sure" in the same context a few days ago. His, though, is more of a reluctant "sure." A "Do I want you to make me a smoothie? Well, I guess, since you didn't offer to make a chorizo omelet. Sure."
3. About a hundred years ago I read the book "The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao" by Junot Diaz and loved it with all of my might. Funny, tragic, great characters with great voices. And then I never finished it. I had less than 100 pages left. Maybe fewer than 60. My guess is that something shiny and newer came along and I opened it with the plan of sampling the goods and then sunk in way too deep. Lather, rinse, repeat with other shiny new books until I'd lost the gist of "Oscar Wao" and it would be too hard to pick up where I left off. It's been on a shelf at the top of our steps for eons.
Chuck recently read it, dug it, and so after he finished it I decided to crack into it again from the beginning. So here I am again, laughing, gasping, loving these characters and ...
My copy of Meghan Daum's "The Unspeakable" came in the mail. Quick bit of info: This is one of my Favorite Writers in All the World, and her first book of essays "My Misspent Youth" is one I still think about pretty regularly and (insert glowing review that harkens back to my OWN misspent youth here).
And so, millimeters from the last dog-eared page in my copy of "Oscar Wao" I'm afraid I might not finish again. HELP.
4. So. About that photo. I'm not sure the circumstances. I must have been in seventh or eighth grade, according to the sweatshirt -- which was likely paired with a pair of black faded Bugle Boy jeans, if I know me.
I love this photo. I'm a little bummed that I'm just writing a quick note about it because I could write 1,200 words about it and then add 1,200 more. One thing that always cracks me up after posting one of these late-80s pics (#tbt) is that my seventh grade boyfriend always *likes* them on Facebook. He only really knew me for one or two years of my life, but they were pretty solid years. Maybe if someone said my name to him now, this is what I would look like in his head. It makes sense because in my head he's wearing a crisp white Vuarnet T-shirt, teal Chuck Taylors and riding a skateboard.