#minnies looking at her own missing persons poster

[plumbus-central]

doodles from last week

[cluelesspigeons]

When Harry and Draco adopted a cat

Well technically... they didn’t officially adopt the cat

They hadn’t gone to an animal shelter to pick out the one they liked

No

Harry brought it home one day, claiming it had simply followed him on the way home from work

Draco knew better, however

Harry had probably found it on the street and had taken pity, so he brought it home

Just like he had done with that parrot, a few years ago

Until Draco had forced him to return the bird to their upstairs neighbour after some ‘missing parrot posters’ had been hung around their apartment building

This time, however, no posters appeared

And Harry was all too happy about it

Much to Draco’s growing frustration

Because that cat...

That cute, little, black kitten everyone seemed to fall in love with...

Hates Draco

It absolutely hates him, he was sure of it

From the moment Harry had called it Minnie and Draco had snorted loudly at the ridiculous lovely name, the cat had glared at him defiantly

Draco hadn’t been sure at the time just why Minne had been looking at him like that

Until the following day

When he had found claw marks covering his favourite shirt

Minnie had simply blinked at him innocently from where she was purring in Harry’s arms when Draco found her

But it didn’t stop with that

Oh no

Everyday, Minnie seemed to become more evil creative

From walking on the kitchen counter and drinking from Draco’s creamy tea to ripping apart some of his favourite books with her needle-like claws

Not to forget the amount of attention she demanded from Harry...

Harry spent more time with their cat than he did with his own boyfriend

Not that Draco was jealous

Ppffttt, absolutely not

But the last straw was when Draco walked into their bedroom one evening and found Minnie curled up next to his boyfriend and taking up his place in the bed

“That bloody, evil, book-ripping, tea-licking, boyfriend-stealing cat!” he exclaimed loudly, startling a very sleepy-looking Harry Potter

Draco was positively fuming as he made his way around to his side of the bed, trying (in vain) to get the cat to leave

Yet Minnie simply blinked at him (again) as if he was just an annoying fly that would eventually go away and leave her to sleep in peace

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, rubbing his eyes groggily

“What’s wrong?!” Draco repeated indignantly, “what’s wrong is that cat! That’s what’s wrong!”

Harry appeared utterly confused as he looked between his boyfriend and their cat sleeping peacefully again

“What’s wrong with Minnie?”

And Draco positively lost it, ranting about all the things Minnie had done since she started living with them

Meanwhile, a wide, lopsided grin grew on Harry’s face as he watched Draco pace around the room, his hands tugging at his shoulder-length greying blond hair in frustration

Because right then and there, Harry thought he had never felt so much love for one person

And when Draco was finally done being dramatic, Harry pulled him on the bed with him and kissed him softly, shooing Minnie from the bed in the meantime

“You don’t have to be jealous of Minnie, you know”, he mumbled against the blond’s lips

Draco immediately pulled away, an icy glare in his silver eyes

“I am not jealous of that evil menace of a cat!”

Harry chuckled at that, cupping Draco’s cheek and caressing it with the pad of his thumb

“I’m sure you aren’t, love”

Whatever Draco tried to say, however, was cut off by Harry’s lips

And from the doorway of their room, a smug-looking black cat strutted into the living room to sharpen its claws on one of the pillows on the couch Draco had received as a birthday present from his mother

Read the little sequel here.

[heyheycaitalin]

PLL: Original Sin theories

As of writing this (August 4, 2022) I've only seen up to episode 3.

Mouse's missing person poster in the intro lists her date of birth as March 1992. So she would've been 7 at the time of the New Year's rave and currently 30 years old. I really doubt this poster was printed in 2022. Surely someone would notice that birth year doesn't add up. So this poster was probably made several years ago and put up far away from Millwood.

Also Wes was born in 1986, which would've made him 13 at the time of the rave and currently 36 years old. Number 1, Wes is trying to mess with a girl half his age. Ew. Gross. If I'm wrong on this, A better put a target on his back. And if I'm right, Tabby's mom would be justified in stabbing him in the crotch.

So here's my theory. Mouse ran away from home around 2008ish when she was 16. Ran around on her own for 10-14 years, telling everyone she's way younger than she really is. When Sheriff Beasley found her, she made up a story about how something terrible happened to her family and she's living on the streets. Got picked up by social services where her moms found her. Her moms adopted her and are now super protective of her.

Mouse and Wes are siblings of Angela Waters. They were there the night something awful happened to Angela. When she never came home after the party, Wes went looking for her and found her body. He reported it. After realizing she killed herself at the party and not one person reported it, they just left her there to rot, he was super pissed. He vowed to find out who made her life a living hell, who refused to help, who left her to rot like roadkill. He vowed to find the people responsible and do the same to them.

Wes went to NYU around 2004-2008. Sometime during that, Mouse ran away. Idk maybe their parents found out Mouse is queer and were abusive.

I don't know whether Wes knows Mouse is alive and well. Maybe he thinks she's still missing or presumed dead. If he saw her out, he might assume she just looks like his little sister. But there's no way that 16ish year old is his 30 year old sister. Her name might not have even been Minnie/Mouse originally.

If he does know she's alive, in town, and posing as a high schooler, they're definitely in on it together. Mouse could've been the one in the costume when Tabby saw A on the road. Or it could've been a dummy. Wes definitely pulled over on that random spot like it was on purpose.

[veiltray63-blog]

Archaic Expectations: Freeing Female Roles From A Dollhouse In Society Hill

Not much was known about the dollhouse in a dark, back passageway of Powel House at 244 South 3rd Street until Mickey Herr went searching for its history. | Photo: Michael Bixler

If  “play is the beginnings of knowledge” as the 19th century anthropologist George A. Dorsey espoused, what can we learn from the toys of our childhood? What can we learn from the toys of our ancestors? The #MeToo movement has found many women (and hopefully a few good men) looking back on lessons learned, both implicit and overt, and pondering: What ideas have we received about how life should be lived and where did these messages originate? From Victorian Fashion Dolls to Barbie’s Dreamhouse and the newest American Girl “Truly Me” doll, are we still in our childhood playrooms acting out the same narratives in a world that struggles with change? A challenge to look more closely at a dusty old dollhouse, a lucky find at the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, and a trip to the Philadelphia Museum of Art has me rethinking the ideological advances of women in society and the retrogressive nature of our current era.

The dollhouse in question resides in a back passage of Philadelphia Society for the Preservation of Landmarks’ Powel House on South 3rd Street. As a former house site manager I spent time thinking about this dollhouse, and, honestly, I never much cared for it. The toy model has a forlorn creepiness compounded by its shadowy location. And despite its relative remoteness inside the museum, the dollhouse always seemed in the way, especially as it has nothing to do with the Powel family history. I mostly ignored it and gave a rote answer when visitors inquired about it. Referring to a guidebook I would respond, “Owned by the Cadwalader family, whose family portraits and furniture can be seen in the Powel Room at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Used by six generations of daughters, all named Anne,”

In the bottom left corner of the dollhouse is a text panel listing seven generations of women named Anne. It’s a frustrating list with no context of dates or relationships between the women. Were they mothers and daughters? Aunts? Cousins? Were they named Anne so that they all would inherit this object? Was this dollhouse really built in the early 19th century or was this all just a fabrication?

The Cadwalader family is an old Philadelphia family. Sophia Cadwalader, along with other relations, was among the earliest supporters of Frances Anne Wister’s vision in creating the Philadelphia Society for the Preservation of Landmarks and the renovation of the Powel House into a house museum in the 1930s. Through the years I have met a Cadwalader descendent or two who were dismayed by my lack of excitement about “their” dollhouse. Two more recent encounters would finally cause me to reconsider my apathy. First was a discussion with Dr. Hilary Lowe, a professor at Temple University. Her training in history combined with women’s studies allowed her to see what I could not. This dollhouse is more than an outdated plaything. It is a goldmine of information. This notion was driven home on a recent visit to the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, when I came across an astounding passage in a memoir written by Mary Cadwalader Jones.

The following is a first-hand account of the dollhouse written sometime in the early 1900s, looking back to the 1850s. Mary Cadwalader Jones was born in 1850, and her mother died in 1861.

“At proper intervals my mother took me to see my grandfather, Judge John Cadwalader, where his mulatto butler, Burns whose manner would have become any bishop, often ushered us into his office, two large rooms on the ground floor, fairly over-run with law books…. My grandfather was very kind, but after a while I was glad to be allowed to go upstairs to the fourth storey [sic] to look at the old baby-house.”

This list notes seven generations of Annes that have owned the dollhouse at Powel House. | Photo: Michael Bixler

“This doll’s house had been made for some child of the family about 1800, and although generations of little hands had been hard on its furnishings much of them still remained and would have been the joy of a “period” decorator. I believe it originally had two side wings, in the Southern fashion, but they had disappeared, leaving a square box with a front which opened in the middle disclosing a dining-room, kitchen, drawing-room and bedchamber. The dining-room table, sideboard and chairs were good Chippendale; from the drawing-room ceiling a charming crystal chandelier hung over furniture covered with faded brocade; in the chamber there was a four-poster bed with chintz curtains, a wash-hand-stand with china ewer and basin, a toilet table with looking-glass, and a low chair by the open fireplace with it tiny fire-irons. I think there was also an open hearth in the kitchen; cooking utensils were gone, but a coloured cook, her head covered with a once-bright bandanna, stood waiting, and a coloured butler also waited in the dining-room for the coming of the bride and bridegroom who were upstairs; she in a very yellow white satin and the remnants of a lace veil, and he in what had been a bright blue coat, with silk stockings and minute buckles on his shoes. These dolls were of wood. Everything in the house was in scale and the rooms, as I remember them, were each about two feet square.”

This lengthy, detailed recollection is fairly astounding if you consider the intervening years. While the “good Chippendale” is no longer there, many of the pieces she described are. Her overall description of the house, especially her description of the bride, groom, and their attending servants, is spot on. Mary, born Mary Cadwalader Rawle and known as Minnie to differentiate her form her mother Mary Binney Cadwalader, was born in 1850 in today’s Society Hill. Her personal account of her childhood in Lantern Slides, published in 1937 by Merrymount Press, provides incredible insight into the closely-knit blocks on which she was raised. Minnie was born into a world of extreme privilege. Her forebears—Cadwalader, Rawle, Binney, Tilghman, Chew, and Biddle among others—formed a tight web of influence which created and propagated the American legislature as lawyers, politicians, and military leaders. While James Buchanan was a local friend before his presidency, a 12-year-old Minnie was taken to the White House by her great-uncle General George Cadwalader to meet President Lincoln. She wed the socially-connected New Yorker Freddie Jones and became a mother to a beloved daughter. After she divorced Freddie she kept her sister-in-law, Edith Wharton, as a lifelong best friend. Ultimately, she transformed into a premiere Manhattan saloniste with friends ranging from John Singer Sargent, H.G. Wells, Nikola Tesla, and Theodore Roosevelt. 

The Feminine Ideal

When I recently visited the Little Ladies: Victorian Fashion Dolls and the Feminine Ideal exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Art the metaphorical lightbulbs started flashing. While many visitors saw beautifully crafted dolls with exquisitely outfitted trousseaus, I found the nexus of a forlorn dollhouse, the ultimate society doyenne, and generations of trained little girls. While the dolls and their accoutrement are indeed stellar to behold, I was most captivated by the accompanying text panels that provided context to the dolls. Sarah Josepha Hale and her careful editorial direction of Godey’s Lady’s Book, which taught young privileged girls how to conquer the business of society, was front and center. A panel featuring an 1869 Godey’s quote from Victor Hugo, (Les Misérables, 1862) set the tone.

 “A doll is one of the most imperious wants, and at the same time one of the most delicious instincts, of feminine childhood…. The first child is a continuation of the last doll. A little girl without a doll is nearly as unhappy and quite as impossible as a wife without children.”

Miss French Mary doll from the Philadelphia Museum of Art exhibition, Little Ladies: Victorian Fashion Dolls and the Feminine Ideal. | Photo: Mickey Herr

The quote was only topped by the text which accompanies “Miss French Mary” wearing her Queen Victoria-inspired white silk wedding dress with wax-and-paper orange blossoms. This doll holds the most prominence standing smack in the middle of the exhibit floor. It literally can’t be missed.

This accompanying passage was written by the pseudonymous writer Melva in Home Whispers: To Husbands and Wives published by the American Female Guardian Society in 1859.  

“To fail of love, honor, peace, and happiness in her domestic relationships is with most women to make a failure of life. Therefore marriage is to her a great event—the great event of her life.” 

Here we are reminded that the only acceptable “career” for girls in the 1800s was marriage and motherhood. The Civil War created intense competition as women greatly outnumbered men. It is here that I paused to envision such pressure. I imagined what it felt like to be dismissed as an old maid by the age of 23 and to be constantly reminded that your appearance would be observed and judged wherever you went. I also thought of my own beloved Madame Alexander bridal doll and tried to remember now as a middle-aged woman and a “wife without children” how I once felt.

I continued to read exhibition text like this: “Victorian society saw women as the preservers of order, decency, and elegance. They were responsible for upholding the period’s strict social customs, which dictated precise behavior and dress for every occasion, from morning calls to mourning dress.”

I asked myself: how much has changed? And so I turned back to that lonely dollhouse, the one I had ignored for years, to follow the line of women named Anne and see if I could make any sense of their collective journey as women responsible for upholding genteel society.

Not Just Women Named Anne

Minnie Cadwalader Jones was correct when she stated that the dollhouse had been made for one of the children of the family around 1800. Yet, it did not originate in the Cadwalader family, but with Sarah Teackle and her husband Charles Nicoll Bancker. The first Anne in the list of seven was their daughter, Anne E. Bancker (1813-1869). I have yet to find proof that the house was specifically made for Anne as she was one of four sisters, including Henrietta, Sarah, and Virginia. Regardless, she never married and had no children so things weren’t off to an auspicious start. It was left to her eldest sister, Henrietta Marie Bancker (McIlvaine) Cadwalader (1806-1889) to ensure the dollhouse became a legacy. As the widow McIlvaine, Henrietta married Judge John Cadwalader in 1833, bringing along her eight-year-old daughter Ellen Maria McIlvaine and presumably the dollhouse. John also had a four-year-old daughter, Mary Binney Cadwalader (mother of Minnie Jones). Henrietta and John would add seven more children to the marriage, including three daughters Sarah, Frances, and Anne. While the youngest Cadwalader daughter, Anne (1842-1929), would be listed as the second Anne on the list, she married the Reverend Henry J. Rowland in 1821 and had only one daughter, Elizabeth.

(left to right) Henrietta Marie Bancker McIlvaine Cadwalader, Anne Cadwalader Rowland (Anne #2), and Anne Bancker Camac Nicoll (Anne #3) with daughter Margaret (mother of Anne #4). | Images: Ancestry.com

At this point the legacy states the dollhouse was given to Anne Bancker Camac (born 1856), who was Henrietta’s granddaughter through her first daughter Ellen Maria McIlvaine and Ellen’s husband Dr. William Camac. From Minnie Cadwalader Jones’ written account, we find the “old baby-house” still residing in the fourth-story of Henrietta and John’s house during the 1850s. Perhaps she, like her cousin Minnie, simply played with it on visits to her grandparents’ house. Anne Bancker Camac does take possession of the dollhouse after she married Dr. Henry Denton Nicoll and takes it to New York where she gave birth to three children: Margaret, Anne, and Leonard Nicoll. The fourth Anne (1882-1912) married Gordon E. Wightman, but she died relatively young and does not appear to have had children. This is when her sister Margaret (1878-1962), now the widow Dudley, marries her cousin John Michener Cadwalader, grandson of Henrietta and the Judge. Margaret and John’s daughter Anne Nicoll Cadwalader (1912-1990) becomes the fifth Anne. The house comes back to Pennsylvania after her marriage to John H. W. Ingersoll in 1933. John had two sons by a first marriage, and they added two daughters to the family. The youngest was named Anne Nicoll Ingersoll. It remained at the Ingersoll’s home in Penllyn for many years, until the fifth Anne decided to place the dollhouse in the Powel House, sometime in the 1960s, after the sixth Anne’s daughter, Anne Nicoll Glendinning (the seventh Anne) was born.

And while the sixth Anne, born in the 1930s, absorbed the lessons of how life “should be lived” she did not pass those down. According to the seventh Anne, born in the 1960s, her mother’s story is like many women of that generation. She dutifully married a man from the “right” family and had his children, yet divorced early on. She went back to school and became an academic, raising her children while working. I reached out to the seventh Anne to inquire about her knowledge and memories of the dollhouse. She remembered her grandmother, Anne Ingersoll, as the last of a generation. One still concerned with upholding genteel society. Neither of the last two Annes on the list remembered playing with the dollhouse. In fact, it was only in recent years that they were reminded of its existence and made a pilgrimage together to the Powel House. Like me, neither was overly impressed. Yet, now I hope this dollhouse will take on new meaning. Through 200 years, and eight generations, the ideals of how life “should be” became reality. With hopes and dreams, realized and unmet, of mothers who died too young, spinsters, widows, divorcées, wives without children, aunts, cousins, sisters, and nieces. And now, as part of a museum collection, the dollhouse is no longer an ideal, but perhaps an expanded vision of what it is to be a woman.

About the author

Mickey Herr lived in many places until her heart settled in Philadelphia. She has led the development and communications efforts for several significant non-profit cultural institutions in Philadelphia. Current interests involve elevating the hidden-histories of women. She is at work on a novel, and gives tours for Hidden City Philadelphia, both of which are allowing her to research incredible untold stories of women. She believes in ghosts, synchronicity, and taking chances. Read her writing on Philadelphia, history and geneology at mickeyherr.com.

Source: https://hiddencityphila.org/2019/02/archaic-expectations-freeing-female-roles-from-a-dollhouse-in-society-hill/

[tabloidtoc]

Closer, April 26

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Mariska Hargitay on her mother Jayne Mansfield

Page 1: Contents

Page 2: The Big Picture -- Queen Elizabeth as a young girl with her sister Princess Margaret and their dogs in 1937

Page 4: During its annual Music Icons event, Julien's Auctions will put up for bid a spectacular collection of costumes, memorabilia and personal treasures from some of the industry's most celebrated stars, including Cher, Destiny's Child and Madonna -- items for sale include Cher's iconic If I Could Turn Back Time costume and Whitney Houston's Atelier Versace gown, both estimated to bring in between $20,000 and $30,000

Page 5: Kaley Cuoco is making a dream come true by playing legendary actress-singer Doris Day in an upcoming limited series -- Kaley has always wanted to star in a biopic and fully inhabit someone she admires, and Doris Day is right up her alley -- early in her career, Kaley was compared to wholesome Doris, so this is a dream job for her -- the series, which will be based on A.E. Hotchner's 1976 biography, will follow the star's career from her early days as a big band singer to her roles in classic movies like Pillow Talk, and also delve into Doris' troubled marriages -- the younger generation doesn't know much about her and Kaley can't wait to bring her story to life

* On April 4, Clive Davis, who launched the careers of everyone from Janis Joplin and Barry Manilow to Billy Joel and Aerosmith, celebrated his 89th birthday with a luxurious dinner at Miami hotspot Prime 112 and he was in great spirits, laughing and enjoying time with his family -- while turning 89 is enough reason to be festive, the gathering was especially meaningful to Clive, who was diagnosed with Bell's palsy, a condition that causes a temporary paralysis of the muscles in the face

Page 6: Picture Perfect -- Helen Mirren at the SAG Awards, Jennifer Lopez posing for In Style magazine, Orlando Bloom and the Easter Bunny

Page 8: Ellen Pompeo and Eric Dane taking a selfie on the beach celebrating Ellen's former co-star's cameo on Grey's Anatomy

Page 10: Rob Lowe swimming in the ocean

Page 12: Priyanka Chopra shared her excitement for spring's arrival in a yellow dress

Page 13: Elizabeth Banks showed off her "Rose garden" with this display of Betty White posters, Sharon Gless and Tyne Daly wearing Cagney & Lacey masks, Reese Witherspoon during a photo shoot for her Draper James clothing line with her pup Minnie Pearl

Page 22: Cover Story -- Jayne Mansfield -- her amazing untold story -- her intelligence, devotion and drive to succeed set her apart from other sexpots of the era -- Mariska Hargitay on her mom

Page 26: Martha Stewart -- age means nothing to me -- as she nears 80, the domestic diva looks ahead to new adventures

Page 33: Horoscopes -- Aries Jessica Lange turned 72 on April 20

Page 34: Entertainment -- Toni Collette on Stowaway, In the Spotlight -- Ed Helms

Page 36: On the Move -- Melissa Rivers

Page 38: Best Friends -- Nicole Kidman enjoys having quiet time with Louis who is the latest kitty to enter her family's menagerie of pets, Sylvester Stallone and his dog Buster

Page 39: Roma Downey and her dog Miss Ruby, John Travolta welcomes dog Jinx into his family, Zach Braff with an owl on his arm

Page 40: Great Escape -- Vicki Lawrence on Venice

Page 44: 5 Ways to Soothe Sensitive Skin

Page 46: Tony Orlando -- you've got to keep the faith -- the performer recalls his 60 years in showbiz and the lessons he learned the hard way

Page 50: Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson standing by their son Chet Hanks -- the Hollywood A-listers always put their family first

Page 52: Dick Van Dyke -- his secret acts of kindness -- the 95-year-old comedian has quietly been helping his neighbors in need

Page 54: Yvonne De Carlo -- a life of glamour and heartbreak -- this Hollywood film beauty accepted her most famous television role on The Munsters to save her family from disaster

Page 56: Style -- April Showers -- because you shouldn't have to sacrifice style on gloomy, rainy days -- Naomi Watts

Page 58: My Life in 10 Pictures -- Liam Neeson

Page 60: Flashback -- peek-a-boo dresses, newsboy caps, bath time

[ecotone99]

The Dinner - Part One [RO]

Levi hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since they put it on the calendar, his 6’0 frame tossing and turning as sweat beaded down his soft, brown, elbow length hair.

His girlfriend Stella would leave their elite college campus and her usual world of cities and socialites to change planes three times and drive 20 miles down a dirt road before arriving in Everbrook, Montana, to officially meet his family.

Not like the last time she came. They weren’t serious then, so he didn’t care what anyone thought of her, of them. She was there to visit him, not meet his family. This time would be different.

Last time was early in the summer, so his brothers had been in school all day and his parents had been at work so much they barely saw her. This would be over Christmas break, so everyone would be home. But those weren’t the only increased elements of risk.

When Levi had brought his short, blonde, passionate, clear eyed Stella the last time, he had just described her as a girl from school who was coming to visit for a few days. He hadn’t acted any differently than when he brought a guy from his lacrosse team over, or even a friend from town. It was casual, unimportant, and impacted only his schedule. But this time, he called everyone to gather around the speakerphone for a family meeting, and announced that he was bringing his girlfriend home over Christmas vacation to meet the family.

At first his mother Helen and his stepfather Matt had exchanged teasing looks and thought it was cute that their little boy was taking this school romance so seriously. Until he started laying out the rules. “The lawn sign, that’s got to go.” He didn’t have to specify which one he meant. It was obvious that the “My son is an honors student at Everbook Elementary” lawn sign his younger brother brought home could stay, and the “Trump 2020” sign was going in the back of the garage.

Matt chafed a bit at the way his teenage son was issuing demands regarding how he’d conduct himself in his own home, but he bit his tongue, knowing how common it was for college kids to get their heads screwed on backwards when it came to politics, what with how little they knew about the real working world. “And listen,” Levi continued, “I know you’ve seen her family’s company in all the papers.” “Hell yah, and—” Helen pinched Matt’s side, sensing he was about to spill the beans on their secret. Stella’s family’s company had put Matt out of a job.

They hadn’t told Levi, not because they worried about exerting tension on his relationship, but because they didn’t want him worrying about their financial situation when he should be focusing on making the most of the school that was practically bankrupting them even back when they were employed.

Stella’s father ran an e-commerce empire, and he was the first to finance and pilot test a technology that ended up putting Levi’s father, and virtually all American warehouse workers, out of business. Levi tried not to read too many articles about Stella’s family’s company, both because he knew she didn’t intend to ever work at the business and had no control over what her father did, but mostly because, even still, he wasn’t sure he could totally separate what he might read from how he viewed her.

“No evangelizing, either. She’s Jewish and she’s staying that way.” Levi told them, adamantly. “Now hold it a minute there boy, you’re not taking God out of this house. I’m a proud Christian and I don’t care who knows it.” Matt replied as Helen laid a hand on his shoulder, doing her best to keep him from getting too worked up. She hoped Levi knew he was pushing it. “I’m not saying you can’t be who you are, I’m just saying respect who she is.” Levi said, trying, and failing, to be delicate. Matt looked at Helen in a “Do you hear how he’s talking to me?” Kind of way.

“Alright honey, well, we can’t wait to see you.” Helen said, in attempt to wrap up the conversation before it got too heated. “One more thing.” Levi interjected, before she could hang the receiver back up. “Hanukah starts on December 25th this year, so we’ve got to get one of those… Those candle holders… you know. I think they’re called Minnie Mouses? I’ll ask her. And there’s some stuff you’ll have to cook. It all looks pretty simple though. Most Jewish food comes in a ball shape.”

Matt looked at Helen, now switching roles, trying to keep her calm. “The 25th? Levi, you don’t mean to say she’s spending the Christmas holiday here?” “Yah, she’s spending Christmas break here, what did you think that meant?” Levi replied, confused, and a little irritated that they seemed to be missing the point. “I’m gonna invite you to check your tone, son.” Matt said in a way that made clear it was anything but an invitation.

“She’s welcome to stay until the 23rd.” Helen said, with finality. “She’s traveling something like 12 hours to be here, five days isn’t enough time—” Levi pleaded, but Helen cut him off. “Christmas is a family holiday. We’re going to spend it as a family. It’s not the time to have strangers visiting.”

Levi wanted to force in that Stella was anything but a stranger. He didn’t want to know what Matt would say if he interrupted his mother again, though. “We barely see you since you started school, Lee. We need some time alone with you, too.” Helen finished, quieter than when she’d began. “But it doesn’t make sense for her to fly all that way just to stay for five days.” Levi tried to explain, kicking his backpack across the floor in frustration. “Okay, so she doesn’t have to come at all then. She’s welcome to stay to the 23rd, or she’s welcome to stay home. That’s entirely up to her, she’s her own person.” Matt said. Levi realized he’d better not push his luck.

With the skirmish over, his brothers finally felt comfortable joining in the conversation with their own questions about Stella, mainly things like whether or not she played video games and what type of pizza she ate. Levi noticed his oldest brother, Reese, spoke the least, which probably meant he’d have a lot to say when they spoke privately, later on.

He saw the opportunity to go down the list of do’s and don’ts for the kids and took it. “Yah, yah, she likes video games just fine. She doesn’t like dirt and she doesn’t like things that are sticky. So don’t bring any of that around her, and don’t be asking her all kinds of questions. Ask me and then I’ll tell you if it’s ok to ask her. Or if she’s right there, ask Reese, and he’ll tell you if it’s ok. And again, nothing sticky. She really hates sticky textures. Most importantly, don’t tell her I asked you to do or not do any of this, ok?” The boys rolled their eyes, but tacitly agreed.

Levi thought he was being so smart by going through all the things his family should and shouldn’t do around Stella. His primary concern was that Stella like his family. He figured everyone would like her, what wasn’t to like? And while he’d say the same of any member of his family individually, together, they could be more than dysfunctional. They could be downright abusive.

He wanted to mitigate those behaviors as much as possible, thinking if Stella liked them, they’d like her, and everyone would get off to the best possible start. Instead, he was unknowingly setting himself up for failure, regardless of how the actual trip went.

With each caveat, rule, or formal instruction he put in place, his family read between the lines that who they were was not enough for him to be proud of. This was hurtful to his brothers, but it was paralyzingly terrifying to his parents.

Levi’s parents were sure he’d have broken up with Stella by now. They thought it was nice he was having fun when it was just a casual thing, but the closer they got, the more worried his parents became that they were losing their son to a world inaccessible to them. A world that only accepted people like his girlfriend. Rich, educated, northern people with elite pedigrees and inheritance trusts.

It never occurred to them that Levi might’ve been reaching for that world long before he met Stella. The more he asked them to change themselves to suit her, the more convinced of this notion they became.

In actuality, Stella had never been anything but lovely to his family in the few moments they’d spent together. But her father’s name constantly appearing in the papers as the poster boy of manual labor automation didn’t help her case.

Levi and Stella both understood the deck was stacked against her in certain ways, but neither had a clue that they were contributing to the bias. Helen saw someone trying to take her little boy away to a place she couldn’t visit. Matt saw someone who thought she was better than him, but worse, who was trying to make the boy he’d raised less like him because of it.

Each small modification Levi asked Matt to make for Stella was a way of making the big statement that he was ashamed of who his father was; that it wasn’t the kind of man he wanted Stella to think of him as, or, think he would become. Which meant it wasn’t the kind of man he wanted to become. Which was just about the most hurtful truth Matt could imagine having to swallow.

It was the culmination of the worst fears Matt and Helen had when they sent Levi off to college. They knew he might not return to live in their town in Montana, but they didn’t think he’d start reading French literature and eating organic. They definitely didn’t think he’d get involved with a socialite. So involved that he was bringing her home over the holidays. If only they knew what Levi’s initial reaction to that had been, they’d have never let Stella through their front door.

“So, listen, I just got off the phone with my family.” Levi said, laying down on the couch in Stella’s place. “I think we should spend Christmas with your family instead.” He finished, flopping back as he processed his own words. “What? Did the conversation go that badly?” Stella had asked, surprised. She knew Levi’s family were pretty religious Christians, and she couldn’t imagine Levi not wanting to be home for the holidays.

He could go on for hours about their extravagant traditions, especially since his brothers were still so young. When he talked about Christmas with his family, it was like he was five years old again. “No, I just—” “It’s me, isn’t it.” Stella said, realizing before Levi could finish his sentence.

“No, it’s them. I want to spend the holidays with you, that was the whole point of this.” Levi insisted, sitting up to face her. “I completely understand where they’re coming from.” Stella said. “They don’t really know me and they barely see you. Obviously I wish they’d come to a different decision, but I can’t take you from them over the holidays. You’re their little boy. You’d regret it, trust me. Your family’s holidays sound a lot more fun than mine. Maybe we’ll change their minds before it’s time for me to go, huh?”

Levi tried to find the right words to express his gratitude, but none came. “Plus, the point of this trip wasn’t to spend the whole break together, it was to get your family to like me.” Stella added. “And if I kept you from them on the biggest holiday of the year, it might set us back a bit on that front.” She had no idea how right she was.

The closer their departure date drew; the more nervous Levi became. The list of do’s and don’ts was no longer exclusive to his family. What Levi thought was keeping the peace was actually eroding it like a river in a canyon. He spent more time thinking of things that could go wrong than ways to make things go right, and as a result, was in disaster management mode before there had been any disaster. They hadn’t even stepped on the plane yet and Stella was already itching to put her headphones in to drown him out.

“Don’t mention I spend night. Ever. Like, don’t even let anyone know we hang out alone after dark. But do act like I go to church every week.” Levi was consulting a written checklist. “I can’t lie, Levi.” Stella said, tired, because they’d already had several similar discussions since their day began at 5:00am. “You don’t have to lie, just don’t correct them or act surprised if it comes up. Another thing is, maybe, definitely, don’t bring up environmentalism or climate change. Don’t ask where the recycling is, because they’ll just ask you what recycling is.” All this had a similar impact on Stella as it did to his family. It made her feel as though she wasn’t enough as she was.

It was also discouraging. As though by being who she was, she had already lost. On the one hand, she did think it was sweet that he cared this much and was flattered to realize things were so serious between them that his family’s opinion of her meant such a great deal.

On the other hand, she was disappointed that he wasn’t enamored enough with her to take the good with the bad and let the chips fall where they may. She considered voicing these concerns, but ultimately, she understood that everyone went through some version of this in order to make their partner’s parents happy. If all it took were a few lies by omission to curry favor with a family so patently different from her own, then she could suck it up for five days.

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[cwmoss]

40 Notes on Japan (or How I Forgot to Wipe in the Land of the Rising Sun)

40 Notes on Japan (or How I Forgot to Wipe in the Land of the Rising Sun)

Around the New Years that transitioned between 2016 and 2017, I went to Japan with my girlfriend. These are things I noticed or thought worth noting…

The Japanese don't have a phrase they say after someone sneezes.

They have bootleg Kanye items with @caramelbobby-esque designs. (Which reminds me of people always jokingly saying, "I'm huge in Japan.")

I'm quickly realizing that if wearing fuzzy things were a religion, my girlfriend would devote her life to it.

Though the culture is very respectful and serious, a river of playful and adorable things run through the culture. Even animations on the subway are cuddly-looking.

In a restroom, a sign said: 'Please flush only toilet paper and what nature provides.' Which is the most poetic way I’ve ever heard that said.

I’m tall-ish, so I expected to hit my head in more places in Japan. Though I only ended up hitting my head in 2 places: leaving the Delta flight to Tokyo and on a stairway lamp in a shop in Daikanyama.

My girlfriend and I sat for an hour in Tsutaya Books' lovely upstairs cafe trying to figure out what is in a gimlet. We weren't able to remember, but it was the best drink we had in Japan.

I wish I had a guide for Japan called 'Places to Sit for an Hour'. It would feature wonderful places to feel a city's pace. Somewhere between visual feasts and a city's symphony, one could bathe in everything that isn't water. No photos because you should create your own picture of a place. Descriptions as encryptions, where each word helps you know more and less about each place. If I were to write a place, I'd start with the second-story Cafe of Tsutaya Books in Daikanyama. Each person gets surrounded by a kaleidoscopic background littered with literature. Text halos in sunshine, bound outlines in moonlight. Your ears meet taps, and trumpets, and loose pianos, and free fingers. Even the clanks of cups and steps of strangers keep time with the songs stretching out through the speakers. Darkened mirrors looks into other universes. 5000 yen gets you an hour of pleasure and a couple drinks.

Walking 12.7 miles in one day shouldn't he humanly possible. It definitely isn't humane. (Note: After this full day of walking and being fully exhausted, I considered walking down to the front desk to ask where I could get water. I had forgotten it came out of the faucet. And is after I just after showered.)

In Japan, noise feels like an art form. Studied, noted, and fully aware: it feels like everyone coos at the same frequency creating a friendly hum. People never really shout or boisterously laugh. Noise is almost always kept around a small choral swell of voices. Even stores that played Muzak seemed to never lose themselves to the human voice. When entering stores, the greetings from the salespeople seem to come out just barely above a whisper. The only truly loud noise I heard was a Lamborghini that seemed like it had lost its mother and was crying out. I'd assume even their chiseling jackhammers sound like lullabies that could put infant to sleep. 

Small Coke bottles are the heaviest I've felt at the size. They seem like they're at least twice the thickness of American bottles, and a few pounds each.

The taxis of Tokyo are like the Catholic's idea of the Holy Spirit, they are ever present. And when a door is opened to you, seemingly with magic, it is brightly lit with colorful LED beams.

My father would love this place because it's quiet, clean, and respectful.

The Japanese wear a lot of doctor’s masks for hygienic purposes. For that reason, it’s hard to feel as if you could be friends with anyone wearing one.

Though people who wear the masks are only supposed to be doing so when they are sick (I was told it was to protect others from their sickness), I haven't seen one person wearing a mask cough yet.

In the same way that people who wear doctor's lab coats perform better on tests, I wonder if people wearing doctor's masks here also feel smarter.

The masks aren't as stylish as I'd hope they'd be. Maybe because they throw them away after each day. Though, near the end of our trip My girlfriend found a store that sold animal-style masks that resembled their faces. I assume their for children and kid-ults.

New Years celebrations at the Shibuya Crossing were akin to NYC's Times Square.

Smoking still has its hand on the throat of Japan. It’s everywhere, but in a restrained way. There are smoking sections in trains and restaurants and coffee shops. Thankfully their sealed in little glass and metal bubbles. Except in bars, where it is everywhere.

All of their transit will say the directions in Japanese, then repeat them in English -- which makes getting around impossibly easy.

The babies of Japan seem to mostly be carried kangaroo-style in little front-side pouches, and almost exclusively by the men. (Also, my girlfriend noticed that they don’t see to support the child’s neck. The baby’s head just seems locked back, and all of the necks of the youth look fully normal. So there’s that.)

I was in Japan for 12 days and it wasn’t until 2 days before we left that I heard a baby cry for the first time there..

Lots of poster boards menus line the crowded streets. To keep the outer casing of the lights from burning passerby that bump the lights, they wrap the lights in aluminum foil (which doesn't keep heat) to keep people from burning themselves.

In the whole of the trip, I only heard one car honk its horn.

Cars don't have dents in Japan. Or rust. Or bumper stickers. Sometimes, they'll have stickers on their back window, but none seem humorous or accomplishment based (like Americans proud of running half-marathons).

The restrooms in all public train stations don't have soap.

I've noticed that Japan, like the USA, dances deeply with alcohol and energy drinks. They're everywhere and advertised as much. I wondered how a country so deeply seeped with tea would handle things like Monster Energy drinks -- and it appears they've given them the full embrace. They're in every shop and convenience machine I've seen. (Though I haven't seen Red Bull anywhere.) At our Ryokan, we were going to take a calligraphy class led by monks and they requested that we not have any alcohol before. But there were not limitations for caffeine, which I think equally shifts my mental-state, though obviously in a different direction.

I have a feeling in my gut that when I leave Japan, the thing I'll miss most is the silence. The Japanese seem to respect the Quiet in a way that I've never seen before.

The bullet trains of Japan can take you across the country in only a few hours. It's truly magical and slightly perplexing, especially since this is my first time riding one. The insides of each cart resemble essentially an airplane's economy-class on steroids. Leg room for Paul Bunyan, and windows the size of a manhole cover. The ride is absurdly smooth at all times, but at night the effect is even more stimulating. Lights—neon, iridescent, street corners, et cetera—fly by at an incredible speed. It’s like springtime for blossoming filaments. Black and then a hundred blips of warm and cool light with a few dashes of color, then black again with only your reflection in the window. The rural emptiness and jumbled metro, each expressed in moments as small as a few seconds. All across a horizon that can't be met but does feel known, filled with lights waving goodbye from a city previously visited. And because the tracks outside the bullet train aren't visible, it almost feels like you're riding on a bizarro air plane, being piloted by the a penultimate Yves-Klein bluest-of-blue Blue-Angel of aeronautics only 80 feet above the ground. It's sublime in the way only the most terrifying things can also be equally, if not more so, beautiful.

I haven't seen anyone kiss. I've seen a few young couples holding hands, though they could be foreigners visiting. Love is not in the ocular-air.

Slurping is accepted and encouraged with noodle dishes. What I want to know is: can someone be considered attractive for how well they slurp? (And is all slurping accepted, e.g. finishing a drink through a straw?)

I saw a visiting white traveler run out of pure excitement that he found a sparingly seen public trash can.

The only construction I've seen is for towers. Nothing on the ground or near it.

When you call somewhere, the ringing of the phone that the caller gets to hear sounds like a cooing pigeon.

People look good. Because 99.9% of them are svelte, their clothes look great on them. Bright colors are rare in fashion. I don't know if this a recent thing or something they've been at for a while. While in Japan, I wore a bright red coat and, at times, I felt like a garish sun burst.

Snoopy and Mickey and Minnie Mouse are everywhere. Mario is nowhere. I saw one Mario Run ad while I was here on the subway, and that was it. People don't even wear him on clothes. I didn't understand this at all.

Most major cities I’ve visited smell pretty bad. Especially in downtown areas. Piss, trash, spoiled food. Tokyo had none of that, at least where we were.

As an English speaker, adjusting to Japan phonetically was a little tough. None of their words remotely resemble ours.

It's a Coca-Cola country. It's everywhere, and in most restaurants. Whereas Pepsi is only found in vending machines.

The country is filled with toilets that handle everything for you (except for the actual going). The seat is warmed. Water is sprayed. Lots of options and mild initial confusion, but it was great once I accepted the toilet’s offerings. Though, when I returned home to Los Angeles, restrooms felt odd. Somehow, when confronted with the challenge of wiping, I'd forgotten what to do. Or at least lost my natural, well-practiced motion. The self-cleaning toilets of Japan left me too rectally adventurous, and now I had to pay for my own sins.

If you enjoyed this list, in some ways I wrote it because of Jan Chipchase’s 61 Glimpses of the Future.

[heyheycaitalin]

PLL: Original Sin theories

As of writing this (August 4, 2022) I've only seen up to episode 3.

Mouse's missing person poster in the intro lists her date of birth as March 1992. So she would've been 7 at the time of the New Year's rave and currently 30 years old. I really doubt this poster was printed in 2022. Surely someone would notice that birth year doesn't add up. So this poster was probably made several years ago and put up far away from Millwood.

Also Wes was born in 1986, which would've made him 13 at the time of the rave and currently 36 years old. Number 1, Wes is trying to mess with a girl half his age. Ew. Gross. If I'm wrong on this, A better put a target on his back. And if I'm right, Tabby's mom would be justified in stabbing him in the crotch.

So here's my theory. Mouse ran away from home around 2008ish when she was 16. Ran around on her own for 10-14 years, telling everyone she's way younger than she really is. When Sheriff Beasley found her, she made up a story about how something terrible happened to her family and she's living on the streets. Got picked up by social services where her moms found her. Her moms adopted her and are now super protective of her.

Mouse and Wes are siblings of Angela Waters. They were there the night something awful happened to Angela. When she never came home after the party, Wes went looking for her and found her body. He reported it. After realizing she killed herself at the party and not one person reported it, they just left her there to rot, he was super pissed. He vowed to find out who made her life a living hell, who refused to help, who left her to rot like roadkill. He vowed to find the people responsible and do the same to them.

Wes went to NYU around 2004-2008. Sometime during that, Mouse ran away. Idk maybe their parents found out Mouse is queer and were abusive.

I don't know whether Wes knows Mouse is alive and well. Maybe he thinks she's still missing or presumed dead. If he saw her out, he might assume she just looks like his little sister. But there's no way that 16ish year old is his 30 year old sister. Her name might not have even been Minnie/Mouse originally.

If he does know she's alive, in town, and posing as a high schooler, they're definitely in on it together. Mouse could've been the one in the costume when Tabby saw A on the road. Or it could've been a dummy. Wes definitely pulled over on that random spot like it was on purpose.