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Remember the last time I talked about the potential for disappointment vs. choosing ignorance? Well, maybe that’s not exactly what I said, but I did admit to being scared to try something new that slightly deviates from a known, and enjoyed, thing. Ex: my love of the REBA TV show on Lifetime does not translate to her music, and when I tried to indulge in some of Reba’s greatest hits, it made me gag the next time I tried to watch her show. My actual point was related to Joanne Rendell’s wonderful HuffPo writing and my fear of being disappointed in her book, CROSSING WASHINGTON SQUARE, which she thoughtfully sent me and proved me totally WRONG (terrible article synopsis, please read full “Reading: Hobby or Lifestyle ” . But, that book review is a glowing post for another day.
NOW on for my totally unrelated comparison. I’ve probably mentioned a time or two that I’m from a tiny town in Michigan, where you know the same people growing up through the years. Kerri and I were inseparable throughout most of our childhood, when one of her favorite hobbies would be to stare out her kitchen window and watching the activity of the cute, older neighbor boys (I always just wanted to play fairies with wings and wands of colored paper). One of them happened to be a very talented basketball player, so her creepy window watching culminated into a more mature crush around 8th grade.
Imagine her euphoria when just last week over Thanksgiving, the two were reunited at long last (and I do mean long; we’ve been out of high school for years). After several very cheap drinks, some coy smiles and hair flipping, he didn’t know what had come over him.
Now, nothing inappropriate happened of course (there is no scene from Nora Roberts to be played out here), but let’s just say Kerri said that real life was impossible to live up to her eighth grade dreaming.
And there you go, Kerri, at your request a post dedicated to you! Now pack those bags and come visit.