There was a time when I was little (and I was so cute, and so little!) when I wanted to be Jane Bowles. I was obsessed with the puppet show, unhealthily so, though thinking back now, I can’t think of any self-respecting adult who’d have introduced such a cute little thing to it.
But so I did not grow up to be Jane Bowles, nor a master puppeteer, though I’m lucky to have grow up (more or less) to be the sort of girl who’s still really excited to find a hefty copy of her collected works in a used bookshop in a far off town.
That said, I’m also the sort of girl to take her dog swimming in a hotel pool, so that’s quite enough autopanegyric.
A story:
Better than being a little girl obsessed with Sally Bowles I guess.
Different, Patrick. Definitely “different” than had I been obsessed with the singing-and-dancing variety of Bowles. But better or worse, who can be sure?
Happy all of it!
Or salad bowls.
Happy Holidays to you as well, and all your other smitten listeners. Hooray for words.