What’s this, what even day is this? I know that’s not a properly formed sentence. This is another day where I’ve already been in bed for four hours at 8:30pm, before I even got around to opening the laptop, so I was like, “Whew, it’s also a good thing November is over, right? Because all that posting. Whoa. What a month.”
Anyway, I have some ideas for posts like one of the things that people do, lots of people, that I really hate, and you’ve probably done it, so you’re going to feel all uncomfortable, like I’m speaking to you directly, even though I’ve never seen you personally do it, and even if you’ve done it right in front of my face, I don’t remember, but it’s not like I’ll ever convince you that I’m not talking about you, so maybe I shouldn’t even go ahead with the post if you’re going to get so wound up about it, but look, I can’t let my worries about your feelings run my life and ruin NaBloPoMo for everyone, and also, a story about some papers. So it’s not like I’m out of ideas. I’m just out of that thing that makes me say, “I’m just going to write something real quick about this one really concise and small idea I have with absolutely no tangents” and then get up an hour and a half and six tangents and four thousand words (you only ever see about two thousand of them) later. I don’t have that right now. So I thought I would go back through some of my comments to see if there were any questions I ignored, not on purpose, but kind of on purpose, in that I didn’t get to them right then, but totally intended to answer them later or maybe in a blog post, but ha, I don’t blog that much, so even I knew I was lying to me. But it’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything so the questions might be kind of old.
In August of 2012 (what? Sue me.), Crossy asked, “When reviewing Private, you said you wanted to re-read the Caitlin books. What are these?”
I used to go to this in home daycare – okay, see, this is how I get roped into the 4000 words that I have to turn into 2000. I got this box of books from the woman who ran the in home daycare I went to when I was a baby/toddler. They were her daughter’s books. The Caitlin series is a trilogy about a rich girl who goes to a private boarding school and is a terrible snot, but then she does something terrible, but no one knows about it, and she spends a long time trying to make up for it in secret and becomes a better person. They’re by Francine Pascal, same as the Sweet Valley High books. There were also some Sweet Valley High books in that box, and a ton of other awesome books, like my favorite book of all time that I do not currently own a copy of because I lent it to a girl who never gave it back even though I told her I really needed it back because I reread it all the time. ANYWAY – The Wizard Children of Finn. I really should buy a copy, but if I do, and it’s terrible, I will be so bummed.
In June of 2012, MegglesP asked, “Where did all that curly hair come from?”
Phillip. Phillip has curly hair. I never want to see it. I’m not anti-curly hair. I’m just anti-long hair on guys. Actually, no, that’s not true. Guys can go ahead and have long hair. I’m not anti-long hair on guys in the same way I’m anti… like… war. Or homophobia. I am strongly, strongly anti both of those things. Could not be more anti. Guys with long hair and homophobia are nowhere near each other on the scale of things I’m against. At all. I wouldn’t even put them on the same scale. It’s a completely different set of scales. I wish I’d gone with something other than war and homophobia. It’s just that, if a guy has long hair, I’m not going to protest him or be stressed out over his existence or tell him he’s a terrible, shitty person who can’t come around my child with his awful values. He can just, you know, have long hair. That’s fine. I’m not anti-that. Phillip cannot have long hair. I’m against that. I’m anti-that. And again, understand I’m anti-that on the separate set of scales we’re using for things, separate from my regretful choices of examples of war and homophobia. Which I am, you know, just… super ironcladdily anti. But I also don’t want to make it sound like Phillip growing his hair out until it shows the curl is negotiable. Because, no. It is not. At all. I feel like I need to back out of this but before I do you should know that when he was younger and his hair was longer than his military cut it had some volume around his head and I saw pictures of him at his aunt’s wedding and he looked SO familiar and I was like, “who… who… who… COREY FELDMAN,” and he responded SO INSTANTLY with “I do NOT look like COREY FELDMAN” that you KNOW he had heard it before so I was NOT WRONG.
So. Not negotiable. And baby Feldman gets her hair from Phillip.
In January of 2012, Diane asked, “He [Phil] NEVER played with a parachute in gym class? BUT THAT WAS THE ONLY FUN THING THAT EVER HAPPENED IN GYM CLASS.”
Never did. Not one time. Didn’t even understand why I thought I was the most badass, best parent ever to order Penelope her own parachute for her first Christmas. “So, what? We… shake it? Uh, okay.” Not only did he NEVER play with one, he can’t even IMAGINE THE MAGIC.
In August of 2011, Linnea asked, “Do you Doctor Who?”
No… YES! /Butabi joke
And then I answered everything for a really long time, if we’re going backward in time, which I was, in a weird skipping fashion, because I was on bed rest, which is the other time I post a lot. The first seven days of NaBloPoMo, and during dangerous pregnancy. So if you’re enjoying this and you also hate me, you could always hope that happens again!