Custodial Rodeo
“Everyone is carrying a light that was given to be shared” (Joy Harjo) What about when that light wears camo??
Dearest friends
My mom “passed this onto me” last month. It’s an old book of which I filled out basically two pages when I was in elementary school. It smells like a old leather shoe and that’s okay because now me and you are filling it out in perpetuity!
At the thrift store last week to which I dragged both kids after lunch on yet another No School Day (the superintendent of this town is perpetually on my naughty list), I jokingly said to my daughter that wished I could fit into the above jacket (kidding not kidding). When she later saw someone carry it to the register she bit her lip and pointed with her eyes so I would see the unfolding miracle.
Tim texted this screen pic to me one day, along with the caption AI has no manners. Oh, man. I really wanted the subtitle of this post to be “Injuries, Legal Troubles, Jail Time, Probation…” but (kind of) behaved myself.
Speaking of behaving, my son and I watched Home Alone last weekend. I like the suburban vibes, the Catherine O’Hara and John Candy of it all. Several times a year I am seized by memories of Candy’s polka polka polka scene in the airport - when he tries to clue Catherine O’Hara in on his band’s Midwestern fame by naming their polka hits - and double over laughing. It slays me every time, and Candy did not disappoint as I watched this sateen-jacketed scene next to my son cuddling with me on the couch. Yes, Home Alone is kind of violent, and a Culkin is never my idea of a good time, but I like the old-man-who-seems-creepy-but-is-really-a-saint plot line, and the ralph-in-your-mouth overdone wallpaper of the house, the general winter weirdness of it. Or, I thought I did. Re-watching it within ten minutes I remembered some of the annoying Hollywood writing (ugly older brothers, a cheap (bald!) uncle with a pushover wife, too much swearing, a Playboy magazine McCauley doesn’t know what to do with har har har, etc etc). I probably would have watched the whole thing but we had something to do. We turned it off and my son finished it by himself the next day.
Cut to him yelling upstairs an hour later, “Where THE HELL are my snow pants?!”
Oh boy. I responded, “You can’t talk like that, Mr. Home Alone,” and helped him find his gear. Tim later said, “It’s remarkable how deftly he applied that,” and I cracked up. He really had.
In other news, I went to the store for a book I bought myself and will wrap to put under the tree, one of the weirder things that bring me joy. The distance between who I am one day and the next is so great, I absolutely forget what I’ve wrapped, but then I also get what I want. #whatawomanwants #booklover
There I am in my local bookstore, bee-lining to sniff amazing candles before picking up Liz McCracken’s (new!) craft book, when I “stumble” upon an elder in front of the registers, wearing a camouflage jacket and sitting behind a folding table, selling stacks of books printed with black bears and deer in snowy woods.
Kara: Did you write all these?
Man In Camo: I did.
Kara (moving closer): Wow. (This man has time to kill animals WHILE writing books about it and I can’t even finish one measly novel? lol) Are they all about hunting?
