Like her sister, 10 year-old Three lets me know when she reads a book she likes and wants to recommend, but she shares fewer books – although the number may increase as she sees me reading her picks. One of her recent and rare recommendations was Ghost Boys, by Jewell Parker Rhodes.
Back when I was on Facebook, I participated in an internet pyramid scheme where participants each sent a used copy of their favorite book to the person at the top of the list. Just like the chain letters of old, your name would keep getting bumped up the list as more people were invited to join in. When you reached the top of the list, you would get books in the mail from the other participants.
I hope the others who signed up did as well as I did. I received 7-10 books out of the deal. I was sent classics, nonfiction, and books I’d never heard of. I received a historical fiction novel I’d already read and loved. I am still working my way through the stash.
One of them migrated over to the Chaplain’s reading pile early on and I forgot about it. It floated to the top of his pile and I caught sight of it and asked him about it, not remembering where it came from. “Oh, I borrowed that from you,” he told me. I took it back and started reading.
Do you have any idioms or inside jokes that only your significant other or family members would understand?
The Chaplain and I have developed a few. NIEE (pronounced NEE!), short for Nothing Is Ever Easy. It was coined after we became homeowners and found ourselves at the home improvement store several times a week for months on end.
Our other stand-by, besides Randy-Jacksonisms, is “Jah will provide.”
With all the clothes I’ve made, I’ve never had as many fit problems as I did with the Wiksten Shift. It is made for upright folks who don’t mind lots of ease. I have rounded shoulders and don’t want to look pregnant. But hey, problems with a pattern are an opportunity to keep adjusting the pattern until it fits.
So I did.
Instagram has me pegged as a privileged person who can sometimes be convinced to buy away my guilt over my carbon footprint and that of my family. A swarm of ads for compostable toothbrushes, reusable silicone ziplock baggies, and earth-friendly dish detergent regularly pop up on my feed to remind me that I could be doing better.
Egged on by this, when I ran out of face wash over the summer, I stood in Target feeling paralyzed by the options and annoyed that every one of them came in a plastic container that fell in the grey area of recyclability.
I reluctantly asked an employee if there were any face wash options that didn’t come in a plastic container. She shrugged. I left without buying anything.
