Here are two pictures that MyLissa sent me today of my newest nephew with his admiring but weird-looking aunt. I resemble Cousin Dorothea, Granddad’s ancient maiden cousin who could have been mistaken for a large frog. She was very sweet, but man, was she ugly. Poor old thing. As I remember, her lips looked like they were turned inside out, and when she approached you for an inside-out-lipped kiss, you wanted to disappear. One year when I was around 17, she gave me the entire Little House on the Prairie series: a wonderful and generous present, except I’d read it ten years before when she gave it to me the first time. Little did I suspect then that I’d end up just like her.
To cheer me up in the wake of this realization, I’m going to post a letter that Adi-Louise wrote me on Thanksgiving, to remind me of who I am, or who I was before I came to Vermont to go to school, or who I was before I lost it last year, or who I was when I was something other than what I am now.
Oy, remember, I have this friend named Ginna who I miss awful who is a brilliant producer and teacher and web creator and a fabulous and accomplished artist and a truly wonderful person. So there!!!!!!!
BABBY! So cute. And already wise in the ways of sticking his hands into his aunt’s delicate lips.
I felt the need to comment because of this: “Argentina kebabs.” I would like some Argentina kebabs.
ArgentinIAN, you knucklehead.
Tell that to ReCaptcha, which is now telling me to “unsettle France”
No, no. They are not FROM Argentina. They are kebabs made OF Argentina – small bitesize chunks of the country itself. At least that is what I’ve been led to believe.
Gins, you have *always* unsettled France.
That baby’s liable to get his hand bitten off if he does that to the wrong person.