Random shit I wanted to post that has no feasible connection whatsoever to any definition of "rawness"

O, sweet obsession of my youth!

Jonathan Yardley of the WaPo has a great little article today about LHOTP as part of "an occasional series in which The Post's book critic reconsiders notable and/or neglected books from the past." Man oh man, the memories. From like age 6 to 10, I lived and breathed this shit. Almanzo and prairie fires and bonnets and haystacks, oh my.

What did Laura teach me? To wear brown dresses with red hair ribbons (blonde sis Mary should wear blue). To wander around in the South Dakota sunshine with just a little dog and the big sky. To be a badass serious hardscrabble little chick who wasn't afraid to dig in the dirt and get her hands dirty. To stick up for the little guys (remember what a little fireball she was?). To be mindful and serious and directed and not to fawn pathetically over dudes but instead to pick the ones with the good horses who let you drive the wild ones with the buggy top down. And to teach, and write, and live equally in the body and the mind and the natural environment around you, all at once.

A pretty cool chick, that Laura, for this six-year-old prairie child.

"Laura Ingalls Wilder's Well-Insulated 'Little House'"


Mariah said…
Oh, Laura.

She and Almonzo almost rank up there with Anne and Gilbert in my book of romantic greats.

Key word here - almost.

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