Childhood

Jessica at my crib when I was a baby

I really need some motivation in life. I'm trying to write a personal essay for this fellowship, and I can't seem to figure out the answer to their questions. What are my interests, fellowship objectives, and life goals? What qualifications do I have?

Aw hell. I don't know! And this is the easy essay.

But I do have a paper due tomorrow in my women's studies class relating childhood perspective theory to a memory. So I've been thinking a lot about memories, and some are just hilarious. For instance, when we used to go to presidents' homes/birthplaces/grave sites on vacation... which is just weird in itself. But I was reminded the last time I was home that there was one time when we went to the grave of Chester Arthur, and my sister and I (and Katie, I think) decided to make the experience more interesting, so we started calling him "Papa Arthur" and screaming and wailing over his death. That's right, there was a lot of old time English going on, with the hand across the forehead and the fake fainting.

Fainting Couch, as they were referred to in the 19th century, when women started to wear corsets and got all out of breath.

We were history majors, even then. What can I say? I will post more memories later. Right now I'm actually going to try and write something. All while babysitting, ha! These kids won't leave me alone!