6:17 am, pre dawn chat with my 10-year-old
Psst. Good morning. I’m going to go vote. Do you want to come with me?
Ok. Let me rephrase, it would mean a lot if you came with me to vote today. And someday, I think it will mean a lot to you too.
Honey, I’m already feeling a little weepy. This is a big deal and I want to share it with you. I’m probably going to be sobbing tonight when she wins, too.
What if she doesn’t win?
“…. I’m probably going to be sobbing then, too. That’s why we vote.” More
If you ever get a chance to blow an 8th grader’s mind, seize it.
The Huffington Post, combing the web for trending pieces, curates a lot of solid content. Good stuff. Stuff I am willing to miss.
After Elizabeth Gilbert’s Cleveland appearance this winter as part of the Cuyahoga County Library Writer’s Center Stage series, I had pages of notes demanding full-on essay treatment.
That was November.
In the little notebook I carry in my purse, there are four scrawled pages crammed between cabinet measurements for our kitchen renovation and notes from an early morning school levy campaign meeting. No essay. No grand reflections. A few stolen moments documented from a folding chair.
I open with the best kissing scene in all of John Hughes history. Better than Sixteen Candles [snooze]. Better than the passionless pecks in The Breakfast Club. Better than any Brat Pack liplock involving Andrew McCarthy. Is it the soundtrack? The juxtaposition of sex and oil pans? Is it the badassery of Mary Stuart Masterson as Watts? No matter. It’s a cocktail of PG-sexy awesomeness.
Behold…the Kissing Lesson from Some Kind of Wonderful.