Fulfilment
For this my mother wrapped me warm,
And called me home against the storm,
And coaxed my infant nights to quiet,
And gave me roughage in my diet,
And tucked me in my bed at eight,
And clipped my hair, and marked my weight,
And watched me as I sat and stood:
That I might grow to womanhood
To hear a whistle and drop my wits
And break my heart to clattering bits.
I saw Fantastic Mr. Fox on Thursday and I already want to see it again. As a kid, I was a huge Roald Dahl fan. My grandpa Lou bought me every book he wrote and I read them all, even though Matilda was always my favorite. That said, I think somebody should make a law that only Wes Anderson is allowed to make Dahl’s works into movies from now on, because Fantastic Mr. Fox was exactly what I pictured in my little kiddo head a decade and a half ago, come to life. It doesn’t hurt that I also happen to love woodland creatures (especially when they’re wearing tiny three-piece suits) and miniature diorama-type things (see also: childhood Kitchen Littles and Polly Pocket obsessions). But, really. Masterpiece.
I was really excited to see in The New York Times that a lovely couple from my hometown finally got married, after being together for 20 years. When I worked at the Gap in town, they used to come in with their adorable little boy, and they are just the nicest family you could ever hope to meet. I admire them for demanding the right to marry and I am proud of my home state for finally granting it to them.
The Power of Two →
Really amazing story. I wonder what it would be like to have a connection like that.
Hopefully, I’ll get you on something—hit you with one song, and you’ll go [jaded-hipster affect], ‘Act-ually, I’ve gotta say, that song’s my jam! But I still think he’s a douchebag as a guy…
I appreciate that if you come home after making staplers all day, you might want to sit down and incite somebody on the Internet. They’re exercising a voice. I get that.
I wanted to be a librarian when I was little. And I do have several cats with people names. Emily, Isabel and Calvin, to be exact.
(via thedailywhat)
Just found a copy of my great-grandmother's journal
“Why I Am Not Fashionable”
by Frances Margaret Showalter
Terre Hill, Pennsylvania
1905
A long, long while ago, when life was all sunshine to me, my highest aim was to be considered stylish or fashionable. I can well remember how many hours were wasted in trying to get my hair up in the latest style or in trimming and retrimming my hats to make them assume the Parisian air. But I have learned a lesson, one that was rather severe at first and one that removes the desire for fashion from me as far as the moon.
On the Charlie Brown Christmas song
- Dad: That's not a real Christmas song.
- Mom: What do you mean? It says, "Christmastime is here"!
- Dad: Ehh, I don't like it.
