Resolutions Kept So Far = 0

Though I am drinking a glass of water or rather I have one next to me which my cat has just jammed her head into, so at least one of us is become a sleek, hydrated and healthy being.

Went over to Carrie's last night for Indian food which she was able to throw together while talking and listening; not something I am able to do with much skill. She has a white cat whose belly drags on the ground and if you hold her in your lap, she turns even more fluffy like a rabbit you'd pull out of a magician's hat. One of my other (not listed) NY's resolutions is to do better with female friendships. To that end, Margaret and I have agreed to go to first Friday tomorrow night and then maybe out for a drink where I will meet Cute Coffee Shop Boy, her latest crush. I suppose it beats my usual Friday which consists of Hearts and TV.

Just finished re-reading Lynda Barry's Cruddy. Jodie read it too while she was here and said it made her feel bad. I think I must be missing some kind of gene linked to compassion because I mostly thought it funny and dark and up-lifting in some ways. Did she get away or did she get pushed in front of a train? I think she got away. I want to write the way Barry does; she remembers what it's like to be 12 and 13 years old so well. Did anyone like themselves at that age? I always thought Nancy Woodward with the long blond hair and Gloria Vanderbilt jeans from my middle school managed pretty well, but maybe she felt as dorky as I did. Perhaps I can ask her at our 20 year reunion.

Comments

Karin said…
I just had Indian food for lunch!

I love hearing about cats, especially fluffy ones.

The other night Girlcat was running all over and acting crazy while Boycat and I were trying to sleep on the couch. He was stirring in my arms, seemingly perturbed by all the commotion. He got up, ran across the room, batted Girlcat in the head, and then stuck his nose up her butt. So she ran into the basement, and stayed there, quiet. Then he came back to the couch and jumped into my arms. We soon fell asleep.

When I was 13, I felt like a dork in some crowds, but not in others. I definitely looked like one, evidenced by video and photographs from that era.

I think the Nancy Woodwards of the world did their best at age 13, and that for them, everything has been downhill since then.

Or maybe not. Maybe they'll always be fabulous.
jn said…
well, maybe 12 or 13 if you're TOTALLY FUCKED UP! And like, stoned, and possibly a child murderer as well.

love,
your REAL bunny

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