As our time in Peru draws to a close, I realize how remiss I've been in my reporting. Thus, I am introducing a new series of posts entitled "Things I've Neglected to Tell You." Here is the first installment: the German Expressionist version (The working titles for future installments are Things I've Neglected to Tell You: things related to the radio, Things I've Neglected to Tell You: Half-O update, and Things I've Neglected to Tell You: I'm five months pregnant).
Act I
We went to a dog circus some months back. It was there in the parking lot of a frequented supermercado, and Half-O was intrigued. I'm not sure what I expected, but it wasn't:
Act II
The Archaeologist broke his pinky. He broke it hiking down from his site in the dark while carrying lots of equipment. He thought he had just dislocated it so had someone from his crew pull it out to set it. He had him try again. He then asked another crew member to give his askew pinky a pull and try to set it straight. Are you queasy yet?
A few days later he came home from the mountains with a swollen black and blue hand …and crooked pinky. It wasn’t just dislocated:
It hangs in the room where Half-O sleeps (the other day I was asking where one of her toys had gone, and she said it was by Tom – it took me a while to realize she meant Tom Cruise). I figured I should finally mention/document it on the chance that, years from now, she moves to California and decides to try out a new religion where she needs to identify the traumas of her past … in, say, a dianetic audit, or something. The fact that she slept below this poster for over a year may come up. At the very least she can use it as an ice-breaker at the parties.
As for my Tom Cruise trauma: once, as a freshman in college, a guy came up to me in the cafeteria and asked if anyone had ever told me that I looked like Tom Cruise. It was unclear if he meant to insult or flatter me – or if he had had like a doppelganger eureka moment and was looking for confirmation. There was some Lost in Translation to it all too. I don’t recall any conversation following my “uh-uh” – I believe he left and my roommate and I returned our attention to Simpsons and our dinner. Oh – but later, I was relating the encounter to my aunt, and her response was “Well, he should have at least said Tom Cruise’s sister.”
Act I
We went to a dog circus some months back. It was there in the parking lot of a frequented supermercado, and Half-O was intrigued. I'm not sure what I expected, but it wasn't:
Act II
The Archaeologist broke his pinky. He broke it hiking down from his site in the dark while carrying lots of equipment. He thought he had just dislocated it so had someone from his crew pull it out to set it. He had him try again. He then asked another crew member to give his askew pinky a pull and try to set it straight. Are you queasy yet?
A few days later he came home from the mountains with a swollen black and blue hand …and crooked pinky. It wasn’t just dislocated:
(and Half-O casts her solidarity)
Act III
Back in the beginning of 2010, The Archaeologist came down to Peru a month before we did to get going on a bunch of bureaucratic bunk and also find us a place to live. He found us a little house with a little yard for little rent.
A month later when we all arrived in the wee hours of the morning, we went straight to sleep, but the next day I got the tour and saw this:
It hangs in the room where Half-O sleeps (the other day I was asking where one of her toys had gone, and she said it was by Tom – it took me a while to realize she meant Tom Cruise). I figured I should finally mention/document it on the chance that, years from now, she moves to California and decides to try out a new religion where she needs to identify the traumas of her past … in, say, a dianetic audit, or something. The fact that she slept below this poster for over a year may come up. At the very least she can use it as an ice-breaker at the parties.
As for my Tom Cruise trauma: once, as a freshman in college, a guy came up to me in the cafeteria and asked if anyone had ever told me that I looked like Tom Cruise. It was unclear if he meant to insult or flatter me – or if he had had like a doppelganger eureka moment and was looking for confirmation. There was some Lost in Translation to it all too. I don’t recall any conversation following my “uh-uh” – I believe he left and my roommate and I returned our attention to Simpsons and our dinner. Oh – but later, I was relating the encounter to my aunt, and her response was “Well, he should have at least said Tom Cruise’s sister.”
