When I was eight I asked my mom to decorate my room with Macho Pete cartoon characters, but partial temporary deafness on her part resulted in Machu Picchu decor and an arduous 3 hour journey to the top bunk every night, but the frigid cold was held at bay by alpaca wool and a bedtime story from the Dolly Llama, my big sister in costume. Mother could get things so spectacularly wrong at times. I can still recite my sister's versions of Tibetan folk lore, though people have remarked how much it sounds like Spanish.
When I was eight I would be fascinated at the beginning of every evening dinner meal as my smiling mother would pour very cold water onto very cold ice in my Johnny Quest tumbler and have slush form centimeters away from my nose as I watched with glacial glee. Then suddenly one evening I was reminded of my much earlier childhood days of the Inuit word for slush "nook-ka-noo" only that isn't real Inuit but the Inuit of my dreams when I fell asleep during Mrs. Petersen's 6th grade afternoon fictional reading story time earlier the same day. Yes, go ahead, do the math, be jealous, I was pushed a few grades ahead for brilliance.
When I was eight I would be fascinated at the beginning of every evening dinner meal as my smiling mother would pour very cold water onto very cold ice in my Johnny Quest tumbler and have slush form centimeters away from my nose as I watched with glacial glee. Then suddenly one evening I was reminded of my much earlier childhood days of the Inuit word for slush "nook-ka-noo" only that isn't real Inuit but the Inuit of my dreams when I fell asleep during Mrs. Petersen's 6th grade afternoon fictional reading story time earlier the same day. Yes, go ahead, do the math, be jealous, I was pushed a few grades ahead for brilliance.
Absolutely none of this blog post is true.
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