Our Girl: The Little House Gap Analysis

Bernie: Deadline: A date or time before which something must be done.

i looked for a lou grant quote, 'cause i'm a big fan of the hairy old dude and mrs. pychon, later known as tony's mother—oh, poor YOU—but i didn't find anything suitable. AND you can't go wrong with duvall.

i'm ecstatic that morgan is posting on an every other day schedule. this could save my marriage. i'm lucky to have a tolerant husband—much like laura ingall's almanzo.
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growing up, a little house on the prairie book was always in my hands. i understood laura with my whole heart. laura was strong as a little french horse, a half-pint of cider half drunk up. as she was growing up, she was allowed to work with her father, whether stomping hay or twisting the slough grasses into stick bundles in order to keep the fire going through the long winter. she fished, she rode fast ponies with her cousins by the shores of silver lake and she was quick enough to catch cap garland's throw. and even though she wanted to remain a pioneer girl and wander the country, eventually, she married a farmer.

although i never intended to marry a farmer and have fought a good fight over the vineyard— looks like my life is going to run a parallel course on that as well. and i'm feeling happier about it. did you know i went to college close to mansfield for my freshman year, but never went to visit? i still have my laura books; they are waiting for my little girl that never came.

i just got my big guy to read huckleberry finn and tom sawyer, which he liked very much and finds it hard to believe momma's high school sweetheart came from hannibal, mo. but that was long ago and momma ran away from that life. well, that life and the other life where she was traveling through california with a man she wouldn't end up with, either, and she saw these dusty stores with cartoony frogs painted haphazardly on the windows. many, many frogs and suddenly she became really excited. where are we, she asked the man. are we in calaveras county?

how the hell should i know, asked the man. why do you care? well, said momma, mark twain wrote about a frog jumping contest in... and the man interrupted her and shouted, everyone knows mark twain lived in missouri. he was never in california. at that point, signs everywhere appeared promoting calaveras county and mark twain and frog jumping contests and for once, momma didn't need to rub it in but it didn't improve the man's attitude. and although i counted the days until my vacation was over and i could run away from that man, too, the california vacation was one of the best trips i have taken.

i look forward to taking my boys on a trip like that, long and loopy and exploring a whole coastline. my boys travel really well. now, though, it seems the only time i go back home is when there is a funeral. even so, i make sure the boys go up the st. louis arch and put their toes in the mississippi. they know where their momma is from. their momma gets less sure about it by the minute, though. its getting to be like cahokia mounds. my people are disappearing. i miss my family. i miss my home.

I have found out there ain't no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them.
-Tom Sawyer Abroad