- Ani DiFranco’s “Dilate”
- Edith Piaf’s “Greatest Hits”
- A CD mix I made for a girls-only crafty slumber party in 2003
Playing loud. Making contradictions. I’m not in the mood to be soothed.
“And everyone’s a fuckin Napoleon.” – Ani DiFranco, Napoleon
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The small one has an adorable “Junie B Jones” journal – JBJ is a series of books about a kindergartener and then first-grader who has lots of misadventures. The books are a hoot.
Anywhoosie, there’s a part of the journal where the kid needs to capture things about their parents.
She asked my husband one of the questions: “Do you wish you had a different name than the one you have?”
He considered this, and then launched into an earnest reverie: that though he didn’t necessarily love his name, he had never really considered having another name or felt he had wanted another name, and that he had had his name for so long it was a bit difficult to imagine having any other name than his own. And so forth.
There was a long pause, and she looked down at the blank line on the page.
“I’m just going to write ‘Bob‘,” she concluded.
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My 7 year old daughter finally saw “Star Wars” a few weeks ago (meaning, the one that was episode 1 when you & I saw it back in the day that’s now episode 4 - b/c who the H would show their kid the new episode 1 first??)
So, now she’s in on that movie the big people refer to a lot. It was interesting to introduce her to a movie we’ve seen so many times, see what she keys in on.
I happen to love the Cantina scene, and sat up tall and eager when it came on.
“That’s Han Solo,” I whispered, almost reverently. “A lot of ladies like him and think he’s really handsome.”
She scoffed. “I like the one next to him,” she said. “He’s a good listener.”
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There should be a new verb coined for when you have written an email response and it’s ready to go but you wait to send it b/c you don’t want to seem like some loser who has nothing better to do than fire off immediate responses, even if at that moment, that’s what you are.
Come on, people, you know you do this too.
Are you E-mulling? E-laying your response?
Hmm, those just don’t catch the spirit. Your thought?
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In my moments of boredom lately, I have been compiling a list of offerings for the Star Wars-themed restaurant that exists only in my head. It lets me come up with awful puns, and then I laugh and laugh like a loon. Below I have my list this far; have ye any others to add?
- Boba Fettucine
- eWok Stir Fry
- Ham, solo
- R2DTuna Melt
- Uncle Owenchiladas
- Admiral Ackbars
- Bananakin Foster
- Charleston Chewbacca
- Fro Yo-da
- Princess LayerCake, Organic
- Salacious Crumb Cake
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2. Special Zombie versions of classic books
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The more I read about Buddhist-related concepts, the more I realize what a devil of a time I’ve had with anticipation. Not that I think that people are meant to not anticipate events and changes – I don’t think that’s possible – but I do think it’s instructive to reflect on how you perceive it and what role it may play in your temperament and approaches to situations.
When I was a youngster, my mother generally worked 3:00-11:00pm shifts as a nurse at a local nursing home, every other weekend. Compared to the full-time workweeks she and I both work these days, that does not feel like a large amount of time working outside of the home, you know? But at the time I did not like her working those shifts.
I can’t say exactly why – was I jealous that she was taking care of those non-family members instead of my brother and me? Was I frightened that some harm would come to her in the evening going to the parking lot alone? Was it simply that she was usually in the house when I went to bed, so the difference felt creepy and alien? We usually had fun with my Dad, he’d make sure there was something special like playing card games. It was more like I was akin to a herding dog – it just didn’t feel right until the whole family was gathered up.
But here’s the odd thing: I remember having a certain secret joy on the weekends she worked because I knew the NEXT weekend, she would be home. And yet the weekends she didn’t work, I felt somewhat mopey, because the following weekend: working again. It’s odd and twisted, thinking back on it. The anticipation colored each weekend, in a way – cheered up the work weekends, and rained on the home weekends.
The other thing I did was to force myself to stay awake until she arrived home around 11:15. Anticipated her arrival for hours. Keeping awake wasn’t overly difficult; all I needed to do was conjure up all of the terrible things I thought may happen to her while she was not with us, and I was wide awake.
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