Play It Again, Sahm. Meredith Efken. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Meredith Efken
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Современная зарубежная литература
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781472089342
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for the clarification. I’m just a little confused. How did you manage to study the entire play Romeo and Juliet and come away with the impression that Shakespeare was NOT in any way risqué?

      Did no one ever explain to you the Queen Mab speech, honey?

      Phyllis

From: Zelia Muzuwa <[email protected]>
To: P. Lorimer <[email protected]>
Subject: Be nice!

      Down girl! Behave yourself. Lest you bring the wrath of Rosalyn down on all our heads.

      Z

From: Hannah Farrell <[email protected]>
To: SAHM I Am <[email protected]>
Subject: [SAHM I AM] Shakespeare

      Hi Phyllis,

      I’m SOOO like not confrontational or anything, but Shakespeare happens to be something I know about. I got an A+ in that class!!!

      I know all about the Queen Mab speech. Mercutio was talking about a dream fairy, like Tinker Bell or the Sugar Plum Fairy. What’s so risqué about that?

      It’s impossible for Shakespeare to have written anything naughty. After all, he wrote hundreds of years ago, when people were a lot more pure-minded and innocent. We all should try to be more like that instead of making inappropriate remarks about things that are immodest.

      I’m not trying to be a prude or anything. I mean, after all I AM a married woman! But I love Shakespeare, and I don’t like to see his reputation ruined—especially not on an e-mail list of (mostly) Christian stay-at-home moms! I’m sure William Shakespeare loved Jesus—everyone did back then. He most certainly did NOT write about naked people fencing. I’m very offended by the suggestion and by the images that brings to mind.

      I’d like to ask the loop moderator to bring this topic to a close. It doesn’t even have anything to do with stay-at-home mom stuff!

      Hannah

      P.S. Zelia, your smelly-house problem reminded me of what happened at my school my junior year. Some boys stuffed some tuna fish sandwiches down the air vents and the whole school smelled like rotten fish for weeks.

From: P. Lorimer <[email protected]>
To: SAHM I Am <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] Shakespeare

      Well, Hannah, it does sound like your English teacher did an interesting job with your education. Here’s a quote in her honor, from As You Like It, Act 2, Scene 7:

      “And in his brain,

      Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit

      After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm’d

      With observation, the which he vents

      In mangled forms.”

      Love,

      Phyllis

From: Hannah Farrell <[email protected]>
To: SAHM I Am <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] Shakespeare

      I don’t get it. But I heard that you weren’t very good with humor, so that’s probably why.

      Hannah

From: Zelia Muzuwa <[email protected]>
To: SAHM I Am <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] This Stinks

      Before our Beloved Moderator puts an end to this conversation, I just wanted to let everyone know I found the source of our stink problem. Hannah’s comment about the tuna fish sandwiches at her school gave me an idea.

      We live in an older house with old-fashioned air ducts. Big enough for food to be shoved through. I had Tristan check the ductwork when he got home this evening, and sure enough, there’s so much old food rotting in one of the ducts that we could start our own compost pile.

      At first, I figured Seamus did it. Almost any trouble in our family is a direct result of that boy. But the duct connects to Duri’s room. Duri is one of the children we adopted from Ethiopia about fifteen months ago. We asked him if he knew anything about the food in the duct, and at first he said no.

      We showed him the food. He stared at it like he’d never seen it before. Then he said something about “That’s not my food. I’m saving my food.”

      To make a very long story about an even longer, depressing evening short, it comes down to this:

      Duri has started hoarding food. He sneaks it to his room and shoves it down the air vent.

      I don’t get it! We feed him plenty! And there’s always snacks available. I know he and his sister didn’t have much to eat in the orphanage, but they’ve been with us over a year. Why would he suddenly start doing this?

      I don’t think he even knows why. He doesn’t even connect his actions with the pile of food in the duct. He says he’s not hungry, and he has plenty to eat. I don’t think he’s really even aware of what he’s doing.

      And to make matters worse, Seamus is mad at me now for accusing him of doing it. And he’s mad because we didn’t punish Duri. But I don’t think Duri was trying to be naughty. It’s not the same, but Seamus doesn’t understand.

      I’m going to have to call our doctor in the morning and maybe see about taking Duri to a psychologist. I’m more than a little freaked out. And we’re going to have to get our ducts cleaned out.

      But after that—what am I going to do? I don’t want to become the Food Police, but we can’t let him hoard food like that. What if he’d eaten it later? He’d make himself sick.

      All right, Ros—you got me. I’m answering your TOTW. Apparently, I DON’T KNOW HOW TO MEET MY KIDS’ NEEDS! Otherwise, Duri wouldn’t be stuffing food down the air vents, and Seamus wouldn’t be glaring at me as if I’d betrayed him.

      Z

From: Iona James <[email protected]>
To: SAHM I Am <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] TOTW June 15: Meeting the needs of our children

      How can I meet the needs of the Angel Child when I can’t even meet my own needs? The poetry that used to flow from me has been replaced by a steady stream of milk that never seems to satisfy a growing boy. He’s growing—but am I? I feel like the host of a parasite— I’m providing nourishment by having the life sucked from me.

      I want to write! I want to create. I know the Angel Child should be my greatest poetry, but it’s a poem that drains me. I need something that will refresh my soul so I can keep giving.

      In other news, Francine—the homeless woman we tried to help—has gone back to selling her body to buy meth. She was a stay-at-home mom for over twenty years. And