Bananas, angst, and esophagus pie

Our Lady Of Potassium

Rosie’s favorite word of late is No.  Accompanied by firm head shake and/or body flailing as necessary.  I am all for having offspring who are ahead of the curve, but in regards to “No, Saying Of”, I would be ok with her testing in the remedial category.   However, she is making up for the multitude of Rosie Refusals by being crushingly endearing to the public in general any time we go anywhere.  She has an uncanny ability to will people into smiling at her by leaning halfway out of the grocery cart/stroller/my arms and chirping “Hi!” with a grin that is irresistible to everyone (except, apparently, for that one black-hearted soul-less government worker behind the counter at the Department of Human Resources, GEEZ).  Additionally, she has developed her banana recognition skills and now upon entry into the kitchen she stops and gives a point and a “Nana!” shout out to her browning fruit friends in the hanging basket, like a tiny parishioner doing her Banana Genuflect at the Chiquita Cathedral. You can tell me that you know another kid who does stuff this cute, but I am not sure I will believe you much.

A Staggering Work of Exclamation Points

I was looking for an old yearbook amongst my memorabilia last night when I happened upon my middle school/early high school diary.  And WHOA is that thing an awkward, hormonally charged, Pepto pink-paged mess.  I may have set the world record for cringes per minute while reading my entries from 1992. Actually, now that I think about it, the angsty teenage melodrama from ’92 and ’93 nicely offsets the lackluster bore-fest that was 1988, where I recorded such memorable entries as “Nothing much happened today except I ate and slept.”  (Although who am I kidding? That sounds like nirvana right about now. Middle finger, fourth grade self.) I should submit my diary for a psychological study on puberty, because it only took a year for my posts to go from that to “Hey. What’s up. I’m so depressed I can’t stand it.  Ok, are you ready for this? I am still in love with [REDACTED]. For God’s sake!!! What is my freaking problem????  People don’t understand it, they tell me ‘Just get over him Rachel!’ Why can’t they understand, It’s Not That Easy!!!! Why didn’t someone explain to me that life was so complicated???”

In the space between those two diary entries lies an Adolescent Psychology textbook.  And probably a whole lot of hours on the phone.

Speaking Of Dredgery

I also recently went looking through some of my email exchanges with L from college, back before we were a Hot Item, and the bodies of most of the messages I opened were fairly short and perfunctory (“Oh Queen of Ping Pong, I want a rematch,” etc.) but what was remarkable was that each and every message had an original and (most of the time) clever subject line.  I’m fairly certain that the day I received “Esophagus a la mode” in my inbox was the day I knew I had met the man I was going to marry.

Fellas! Never underestimate the power of a well timed reference to your digestive system when courting!  Just a little relationship advice from me to you.  You’re welcome.


1 Dorothy { 12.03.09 at 11:04 am }

First of all – a public congrats on the published/paying writing gig – totally awesome and totally deserved. yay for you.

Second of all, as I began reading about you reading through e-mails between you and L in college, I giggled anticipating a re-telling of completely different college L e-mail story. But this one is more flattering for L, I suppose.

Since he’s still in college, does he still communicate via e-mail. I swear sometimes, the only conversations Russ and I have some days are via Blackberry Messenger. but those really aren’t worth saving anymore.

2 katelyn { 12.03.09 at 11:50 pm }

i came across my high school journal while i was home over thanksgiving. one word: HORRIFYING.

3 Leigh Ann { 12.04.09 at 9:41 am }

ok, now i HAVE to hear this other college L-email story that dorothy is talking about!

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