All-American

I have been consuming a lot of hot dogs lately. And beer. I’ve been drinking a lot of beer. But mostly hot dogs. Except for the beer. And the strawberries.

Don’t leave me a comment to tell me anything horrible and grotesque about hot dogs, because I love them and will ignore you. I prefer to live in a land of sweet delusion where John Krasinski is my boyfriend and hot dogs are not made out of pig assholes. In fact, John and I will probably serve hot dogs at our wedding reception. Grey Poupon is good on hot dogs, by the way.

In other news, something I like to think about sometimes is that clock that Mrs. Weasley has in the Harry Potter books that tells her where all of the Weasleys are at all times. I have a clock like that in my head for my family, and especially for my sisters, and I tend to keep a mental idea of where they are and what they’re wearing most of the time. Weird, maybe, but I am intensely visual, so there’s that.

I’ve been thinking about the fake sister clock today because Sammi is on a study abroad program in Australia right now and we have not heard from her, so I have to visualize her in her place in the world instead. I imagine that she’s wandering around Sydney right now, or maybe sleeping, since I can’t pin down the time difference in my head, but in any case she probably has her iPod and she’s probably wearing something black or red or pink, or maybe all three, and her jeans and her studded belt with the buckle way over on the side like she does and her Etnies and, in general, she’s just rocking the land down under with her own particular blend of postpunk new wave 10% Hot Topic 90% special roast style.

And Ginny’s in Harrisonburg, and she might be working, or at class. But I bet she’s wearing a clever and colorful t-shirt and jeans even though it’s a billion degrees outside right now, and probably her shoes match the t-shirt, and definitely the ribbons on her pigtails match the t-shirt and possibly also the shoes. And if she’s at home she’s maybe listening to show tunes on her computer or reading a Meg Cabot book or watching something dorky on TiVo. Ginny, if you are reading this, I had a dream that you traded in your Jeep Liberty for a silver Toyota Camry. Just saying.

Jamie’s at school, or on the bus on the way home, and she’s wearing shorts and she may also have worn a hoodie today because 95% of Jamie’s possessions with sleeves are hoodies. The other 5% are t-shirts from various sports. She’s not good at dressing for the weather so if she accidentally wore a hoodie today I bet she regrets it. Jamie is sporty and she’s definitely wearing flops and I bet her hair is in the breadbasket and I bet she mouthed off to someone today. Because Jamie’s a sassy lass and her day is not complete unless she’s mouthed off to someone.

And since I’m the girly one, when I composed this entry in my head I was walking to my car through the insane sweltering heat in my very-girly pink and black flowered skirt and my very-girly sleeveless black blouse and my very-girly wedge heels and my Jackie O sunglasses. But lest you think I actually look put-together today, I’ll shatter your illusions by also sharing that my hair is frizzy in the humidity, I have a hole in my (polka-dotted and also girly) underwear, and that my purse never, ever matches my shoes or my clothes. Today it’s brown leather.

I am a caricature of the kind of person I’d like to be.