Well so the world has changed and I with it. For the foreseeable future, whatever that means or ever meant, I'll handle what goes here differently. More me, less others, maybe, not that it's not me even when it is others, because it's my selection. Okay, try again. For the very foreseeable future, four posts with photos from a very recent drive from RI to NYC and back in record time and with no traffic, so as to retrieve a loved one. The above photo is the first of four I've chosen to use from that journey. And to pair it with text, if I don't count this first paragraph as text, which of course must be counted as text, I've chosen an entry from my fifth grade notebook. It reads in full:
When I was about 3 yrs. old I had two favorite "playthings." The first was a dirty, old, stuffed, horse that I simply adored. Only my very best friends were allowed to go near it! I used to feed it, brush it, and pet it. When my mother threw it out, I sat in a corner and sulked until I got hungry. The second "sacred possession" was my thumb. No one was allowed to touch it unless they washed there [struck thru in original] their hands, or if I washed my thumb. My father said he could hear me sucking it in my sleep at night! Finally, although reluctantly, I stopped.
Notes: 1. Written on lined page in blue ink, using what looks like it might have been a cartridge pen, the cheap translucent colored plastic pens that were like heaven on earth. 2. In cursive, of course (nice and curly). 3. It makes me happy to see how comma-happy I was, and how I used them with abandon. 4. I do not remember a horse. 5. I do not remember sucking my thumb. 6. Nice adverb there at the end; very dramatic. 7. Oh to be in fifth grade again! 8. Oh to feel like the world was a negotiation I could handle. 9. Sigh.
When I was about 3 yrs. old I had two favorite "playthings." The first was a dirty, old, stuffed, horse that I simply adored. Only my very best friends were allowed to go near it! I used to feed it, brush it, and pet it. When my mother threw it out, I sat in a corner and sulked until I got hungry. The second "sacred possession" was my thumb. No one was allowed to touch it unless they washed there [struck thru in original] their hands, or if I washed my thumb. My father said he could hear me sucking it in my sleep at night! Finally, although reluctantly, I stopped.
Notes: 1. Written on lined page in blue ink, using what looks like it might have been a cartridge pen, the cheap translucent colored plastic pens that were like heaven on earth. 2. In cursive, of course (nice and curly). 3. It makes me happy to see how comma-happy I was, and how I used them with abandon. 4. I do not remember a horse. 5. I do not remember sucking my thumb. 6. Nice adverb there at the end; very dramatic. 7. Oh to be in fifth grade again! 8. Oh to feel like the world was a negotiation I could handle. 9. Sigh.
RSS Feed