Today I'm taking Molly out to lunch and a movie, for her seventh birthday. For years now her older brother has been doing things with me on weekends, during the summer, but she's been a little too young. She's old enough now, though, and she thinks it's the greatest thing ever. A few weeks ago, I had planned to take them both to see Superman Returns but Ryan got into some sort of trouble, so it was just me and Molly. Near the end, she leaned over to me, tugging my sleeve.
"Is it almost over?"
"Almost. Are you not liking it?"
"No, I like it. It's just a little too exciting."
She's sweet and quiet that way.
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Ok, maybe that's the plan for tomorrow. Shopping for school clothes today.
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Mel Gibson, I salute you. With a bazooka.
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I think I might be beginning to break through the mental block I've had about cover art for Notes. It's daunting, scary. So much depends, etc.
***
I got a postcard from Italy in the mail Saturday. From Bologna, I think. How neat is that?
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2 comments:
Whither Miami Vice? I had expected at least a one-sentence review.
That reminds me: I miss the book reviews of Phoebe-Lou Adams. It was wonderful to read in the Atlantic a professional reviewer who might have nothing more to say than, "Two teenagers get lost in a valley on a hiking trip. Some nice writing, especially in the middle of the book." Fair enough.
As for the MV, the mojitos did look refreshing.
-cK
Oh, that bazooka comment killed me. Too bad it didn't kill Mel.
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