Hi Darling Ones, Yesterday I was a twenty-two-year-old dum dum in Eau Claire with hot plans to use her financial aid money to get a tattoo at that place on Water Street and then celebrating that bonehead move by drinking bloody marys for dinner. After all, I had already made the choice between actual food and a tattoo. And who says that a pickle and two olives plus some free lemon-peppered popcorn isn’t a healthy meal? The drink had tomato…
Dear Darling Ones, When Sister #2 was here in August I complained a little bit about the library. I do feel like a bit of a hypocrite about this, because I really do love the library more than any other institution on the planet. However, within the last year or so, my teeny local Scott County Library eBook/audiobook app joined up with the larger Twin Cities Metro Library app. This has vastly expanded my book checking out options, which I…
Dear Darling Ones, There have been unceasing levels of crankiness in the air around me for like a week now. I’m not entirely sure what my problem is. Maybe my uterus is preparing to shed its lining, which will make me super angry. Maybe it’s the cool but humid and cloudy weather. Maybe I’m grouchy for no reason and I’m trying to tie it to various reasons to distract myself from the grouchiness. My plan was to come here and…
Dear Darling Ones, You know that parable about boiling a frog? The one that says if you drop a frog in boiling water it jumps out right away, but if you put it in cold water slowly heating to a boil you can murder the frog because it adapts to its environment. I feel this way about the music of The Jayhawks, but without the murder. It’s like one day I was humbly existing listening to The Spin Doctors, Pearl…
Hi Darling Ones, Sometime this weekend I started reading Girls Like Us: Carole King, Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon–And the Journey of a Generation by Sheila Weller. I’m kind of ambivalent about it thus far because I have read a lot about these three women and so there is not a lot of brand-new-to-me information. There’s some new info, like Joni Mitchell’s first husband was kind of a dick and so was Gerry Goffin. I’m only about half way through and…
Ok, Darling Ones, before we get into this latest bit of nonsense I need to remind you of two things. My inner-monologue is a vast, unending musical where songs can become sentient beings and people both real and imaginary frequently sing back to me. My ultimate romantic goal is to live in a house with a porch located in a small town with a cowboy.* There’s also lilacs bushes and sometimes a library is involved. So, it was Thursday afternoon…
