Truth Will Out

I have about forty journals.  Some of them are composition books with groovy, industrial designs, some are covered in rich fabric, some are recycled paper, but they all have one thing in common.  Only four pages filled out, full of goals for writing consistently, keeping track of my children's milestones, etc.  And then nothing.  

I've never been able to sustain the habit of writing regularly.  Unless it's a blog, and let's be honest, I've let 11 months go by.  But anyhoo, sometimes even in those four entries, there's a golden nugget.  And I found one last week from 2008, I think.  Just a snippet of conversation, but a telling one.

S:  Can I have a cotton swab?

Me:  Sure.

S:  Why is one of them purple?

Me:  I don't know.

S:  Maybe it likes to party.

This is perfect in a lot of ways -- a 10-year-old's take on how the world works, her sense of wonder, the idea of Q-tips partying in their little box under the bathroom sink, but it is mostly perfect because of the unmistakable and absolutely intentional invocation of Cal and Ricky Bobby.  You CANNOT go wrong with an allusion to Talladega Nights.

Amen.