Paul Revere: most under-appreciated hero of the Revolution. I spent the morning and evening of my 40th birthday hanging out at his house. I've been to his house a lot, actually. If he were alive, I'd be his stalker.
Queen of the Universe: a person I am related to. No, it's true. I'm related to the Queen of the Universe who angrily disputes, as only the Queen of the Universe can, where I am from, as if I do not know. I wrote about it during last fall's blog tour in an interview I did over at Reading Addict. The nutshell version -- hee-hee, I said "nut" -- is this: I was born in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Therefore, I am from Grand Rapids, Michigan. Lived there until I was nearly five. Grand Rapids, Michigan. The place I'm from. Are you getting this? Because the Queen of the Universe is not.
When Facebook asked me for my hometown, I wrote Grand Rapids, Michigan, using this classic mathematical formula: If A is from B, and B is Grand Rapids, A is from Grand Rapids.
Fast forward to last year. The Queen of the Universe saw this on Facebook, turned purple with rage, I'm guessing, and sent me a really malicious piece of e-mail in which she wrote, “You’re not even from Grand Rapids.” There was more to the nasty-gram. Also a friend request. Once I scrunched the bemusement off my face, I chose not to respond to either. I don't know what she's been up to lately, but I do wish her the very great satisfaction of one day crossing paths with someone who fabricates her place of birth so that said fabricator may be soundly punished and wholly reformed by . . . the Queen of the Universe.
Here he is getting his face kissed on the third or fourth day we had him;
seeing what's for dinner;
wiping off the counters;
taking out the trash;
washing the breakfast dishes;
and helping me finish my latest manuscript.
terrarium: a source of both boredom and horror in elementary school. Boredom: Again? We did this last year. Horror: feeding live crickets to disgusting little lizards. Again?! We did this last year!