I know I've been thin on this here blog lately. This week's Dry Martini column over at Another Mother Runner might help explain why.
Additionally, this might provide further proof that I, while I have given myself an opportunity to have a lot to write about, what I write might be more of a cautionary tale rather than an inspiring story....
- It's amazing how much the world has changed in 50 years. And how little.
- Shocked. I'm shocked.
- I want to go here.
- All of these.
- This only confirms what I already knew about the OWL program. The Teen is currently in it; the Boy will be when he is of age. Zero regrets.
- Tell me to smile one. more. time.
- Real world effects. These drivers are heroes.
- Chanandler Bong.
You had a line I liked about falling in love with America, in all its beauty and awfulness, and how that was like falling in love with a girl while you’re holding back her hair as she’s vomiting. Do you still feel that way?
I still have the immigrant’s crush. America is fundamentally the best idea for a country. Not to get all Statue of Liberty about it, and this is hard as a British person to say, but the principles by which the British were kicked out of this country are the best principles. And however flawed that initial Constitution was — and the fact it needed to have amendments out the wazoo to make any kind of coherent sense — freedom of speech is still the best idea. I can call people chicken fuckers on television. I don’t take that for granted.
- from the Vulture interview with John Oliver, who I love.
Also: On this week's Another Mother Runner podcast, Sarah and I talk about Achilles International and penguin desserts.
- Every mother (and mile) counts.
- I just have something in my eye is all.
- Returning to Fukushima, five years on. (Disclaimer: Mike and I are friends. Even if we weren't, mind, the humanity of his work would still move me. But, given that we are friends, I did get to hear about how lost he got one night while on this shoot.)
- It's nice to have this confirmed by a pediatrician.
- Leslie Odom, Jr, from Hamilton, sums up everything that makes theater great. This is the kind of theater I miss desperately.
“When your young life offered its first disaster, naturally it loomed large. After you’d survived dozens, you basically just told the next one to take a number and get in line.”
— Lois McMaster Bujold, Gentleman Jole and the Red Queen, which I have thoughts about.
This fortnight's Dry Martini column, in which I run and dither.
This is Lucy's favorite way to lounge:
It feels like she's trying to tell us something -- but what?
"Soon he must return to the plane onto which Trump humiliatingly sent him before. Soon he must return to the small cupboard under the stairs where he is kept and occasionally thrown small slivers of metaphorical raw meat. When he asked to be part of Trump’s cabinet he never thought to specify “presidential cabinet, of course, not a literal cabinet underground where the ventilation is poor and there is no light.” It just did not occur to him. Why would it?"
-- From Alexandra Petri's piece on Chris Christie's wordless scream. While this whole primary season has been a giant shit-show, it has given us Petri's text. It will have to be enough.
(Also: Taibbi has been in fine form. Also also: this is cold comfort. But still comfort.)