Throwing Little Thought Pebbles at Your Windshield Since 1996
I really think I might like hiking if it didn’t involve cold temperatures and uneven terrain. I think that’s why I enjoy walking around the mall. It’s everything hiking should be, plus Auntie Anne’s Pretzels and fresh squoze lemonade.
On the other hand, I went to Andre Sculpture Park up in Brookline NH and you get to see cool things like the first ice forming on the trail they call the quarry. Cool, right?
Actually, cold.
I don’t like to get up early on a Saturday. Ever since they started showing cartoons 7 days a week, there’s been no need to set the alarm. So I haven’t. But yesterday I accidentally woke up at 6am and instead of rolling over, I decided to head out to see if I could take some sunrise photos. The sunrise and I are not close acquaintances, so you know, decided to impress it by not showering first. I did get the following photo (along with some others you can see on my flickr stream) so I think it was worth it. You?
Quick disclaimer: I haven’t watched Dora in years. I haven’t ever watched the spin-off Go, Diego Go. Or whatever it’s called. But I used to watch Dora. My niece was obsessed, and in fact, one year she insisted I needed a Dora cake for my birthday. Which I did. I also didn’t do research to see if these plot holes were address (or raised) on other websites. This is actually a re-creation of a conversation between my son his friend (both middle-schoolers, represented below as “Boy” because I can’t remember who said what) and me at dinner last night.
[The conversation begins with one of them asking why people say Mazel Tov, which segued into asking what Cinco de Mayo means. Which segued into a question about the Day of the Dead, which featured a comment that Dora the Explorer had a show about going to Mexico for the Day of the Dead. Or something.]
Boy: Dora lives somewhere in South America.
Me: I don’t think so. Pretty sure she’s American.
Boy: She hangs out with a Monkey, so she must live near a jungle.
Me: She doesn’t live in South America.
Boy: She’s from Mexico, originally, but she came over the border and her fox followed her.
Me: It’s not “her” fox. And no. He doesn’t even have an accent. What about the monkey?
Boy: She took it with her.
Me: You can’t just bring a Monkey into this country like that. It’s against the law. You can’t just go through a border check with a monkey and not get stopped.
Boy: She did. Where else would she get a monkey?
Me: ….
Boy: I still don’t think she lives in America.
Me: I’m just concerned that Boots will eventually chew her face off. I don’t think monkeys make good pets.
