Archive | April, 2013

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One of the things I love about any friendship is when you create shared memories together. It pushes you from the realm of merely “people who get along” into the world of “people who have been through some shit together.” It opens up the door to inside jokes and stories that begin with, “Remember that one time …”

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The other day I did an excellent job of keeping my mouth shut while a distant in-law explained to me how television was bad for children. The comment had been prompted by my admission that I’d spent the morning watching Yo Gabba Gabba with my nine-month-old nephew.

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I just got back to Seattle yesterday, after spending a week in Los Angeles with family – including my 9-month-old nephew. I have now have a suitcase full of clothes smeared with baby food and drool, and I’m completely exhausted. After a week. A friggin week.

But people who become parents do this sort of thing FOR THE REST OF THEIR LIVES.

I don’t how they do it, but I salute them. Without their efforts, none of us would be here. They deserve cupcakes and backrubs and looong vacations.

For those of you (parents or not) who have enough time to browse through them, I give you the week’s links. Enjoy.

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Photographer Haley Morris-Cafiero takes photos of people who mock her for her weight and appearance. Read her explanation of her work, and you’ll be infuriated by how cruel people can be, and awed at her courage and sense of self.

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In the wake of the Boston bombings, The Atlantic explains why there are so few Chechens in the United States.

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To this day, I have fond memories of my English class senior year of high school.

Even though it was (ahem) a little while ago, I remember it acutely. Our teacher was a gentleman named Mr. Willems, who remains to this day one of the best instructors I’ve ever had. He was fond of cardigans and sweater vests, spoke French, and would occasionally make us popcorn or bring in cream puffs and show us film adaptations of whatever we were reading at the time.

He’d ask questions of the class, and when no hands would pop up, he’d say (often en français), “If there are not volunteers, there will be victims.”

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Do you remember the interstitial sketch from Monty Python where John Cleese would say, “And now for something completely different?”

That seems like the perfect way to start off today’s post. Because today I am moving away from South Africa to tell you about the few brief days we spent in London. And I am not going to talk about the very important but nevertheless depressing things that I have talked about for the last few weeks. No mention of rape, or murder, or bombings, or anything like that.

No. Today’s post will about something completely different: bagels.

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Vicky’s BB, Khayetlisha.

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In writing about South Africa, I wanted to finish on a high note. I really did. But I’m at the end now, and this last post about our trip deals with stuff that is, in no uncertain terms, heartbreaking and tragic.

I’m sorry. In the wake of the last few weeks, I really wanted to talk about something lighthearted. And I promise, I will. I’ll tell you about the crazy London hotel in which we got hopelessly lost, about the wonderful bagels we had there and the markets we went to with friends. I will tell you about Australia and the damn birds that kept stealing our breakfast, and the day I swam with sea turtles, and how my husband kept telling me, in spite of how self conscious I was in a bathing suit, that I was beautiful.

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Good heavens. It’s been a rough few days. I hope you are all well. I hope you are all safe, and warm, and that your loved ones are, too.

Stuff remains crazy this morning, as it has been all week. I’ve tried to find some fun, pithy links to include in this roundup, but those have been hard to come by this week. It hasn’t really been a fun, pithy week, has it?

While it seems like today would be a great day for diversions … but I keep frantically looking for more news coming out of Boston. Here’s my best attempt at the links for this week.

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As usual, the Onion makes a few poignant comments about this week.

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Donald Glover talks about some of the responses he got on his campaign to be the next Spiderman. And really, why the hell can’t Peter Parker be black?

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Taking a discerning sip from a flight of beer in Cape Town.

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My husband is a beer snob.

It’s something I find quite endearing. The guy rarely touches wine, and ignores most liquors (with the exception of scotch because it’s scotch. It’s basically like drinking a campfire, i.e., amazing), but he’s somewhat of a fanatic for beer.

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