second grade analogies

As you probably do not know, I work at a summer camp and rule the second graders. I have been doing this for 3 years and I usually know what to expect from hyperactive, whiny, nok-hockey experts. Much to my pleasure, the kids will have intellectual arguments within ear shot. Yesterday they discussed space travel, "It takes a mile to get to the moon right?" and today i heard a charming conversation about the future:

"i wonder what we'll look like"

"the same just taller"

"maybe we'll turn into robots"

"nooooo. If we're not robots now, we wont be then"

"yeah we'd need batteries"

"you know, the heart is like a battery"

"yeah"

(long thoughtful pause)

"yeah"

I'm not the passenger, I'm the engine.

Maybe Pierre and Ernest Michaux didn't invent the bicycle but im going to thank them anyways. I love cycling better than any other form of transportation and now that it is summer I can hop onto my bike and GO PLACES! Just today we found a charming little path in the middle of nowhere and I rode the 8 mile distance without complaining once...
Even though I am content riding my (ancient) white and turqoise beater, nothing would be nicer than crusing on this baby:



Of course, I might only be saying this until I can drive a car...

D-Day

No, not that D-Day... i mean David Day!!!

Happy Birthday, squire!

(I'm not a sentimental person so i would never tell him how grateful i am to have him as a friend, or how grateful i am that he puts up with me and listens to my silly problems when he could be out playing. I wouldn't dare.)

On the other hand, he could just read this.

David, have a good day and fill up on cake, okay?


This is Mallory by the way.

Yesterday:

School ended

my free stickers from haikucircus arrived in the mail

I overcame my fear of roller coasters

felt a strange combination of nausea and endless happiness

found myself in several photographs which all happened to be very unflattering

traded in my tokens for bouncy balls and a handsome green army man in an unfortunate state (you see, both his feet are stuck to the same plastic surface!)

I was still hoping we had plenty of years before life got too difficult

Forget Mrs. Brady

I am sick again. I literally just recovered from a cold when, once again, my immune system failed me. With a weak body comes the realization of just how wonderful my mother is. Yesterday she came home from work (late, i might add) looking exhausted. But as soon as she noticed that the pile of blankets and flesh on the couch was actually her youngest daughter, she went into the kitchen to make chicken soup. From scratch.

Now that's a mom.

stamp out the stamps

dear mallory,
hi! how are you? i was going to send you a letter in the mail, but david dropped a bombshell in my house the other day by announcing to my parents that the price for stamps has gone up from 39 cents to 42 cents.

OH MY GOD. THOSE THREE CENTS WILL SEND US SPIRALING INTO DEBT. to salvage my family from this awful fate, i'll send you a deep, heartfelt message on this contraption.

to continue.

my pool water is now habitable temperature. that is all. see you tomorrow in the purgatory.

love,
Danielle

P.S.
your dad likes his jazz the way he he likes his peanut butt...?
HAHA IT SPELLS BUTT.

he likes his jazz the way he likes his peanut butter

Dear Dad,

Hi. I was just in the car with you, remember? Anyways, riding shot gun gave me an excellent opportunity to observe your ears. They aren't shaped any differently, they don't hang low , or wobble to and fro, you can't tie 'em in a knot, you can't tie 'em in a bow....

okay, the reason i was searching for a flaw or possible wax build-up was because you cannot stop listening to SMOOOOOOOOTH JAZZ.

don't get me wrong, i love jazz. I can write a news article 5x faster when jazz is playing, but c'mon smooth? smooth?!

I try to be accepting. I bite my tongue from calling it elevator music, "Let us put you on hold" music, but my head starts throbbing and my lids get heavier and suddenly i want to fall out of the car and roll down the street. Honestly.

I googled "smooth jazz haters" in hopes of finding others like me. Instead i found an article about another man's smooth jazz addiction. Kirk Pynchon regrets his affinity for smooth jazz, he understands that "like masturbation, listening to smooth jazz is best done alone." (yikes, am i addressing my father?)

Father's Day is coming soon so my present to you? Accepting your lifestyle as a smooth jazz lover.
In the meantime I will fulfill my jazz craving with a little Charles Mingus (check the top right to dl)
Sincerely,
Mallory