Lessons From the Kissing Booth

I've been thinking a lot lately about Nancy Drew. Because the stories have stayed, at their core, pretty much the same since the 1930's. They're all about the same girl who goes on the same adventures and has the same harrowing escapes. Only every now and again someone goes back through and updates the clothes and the language, makes the characters and their world a little more contemporary.
So the girl that I wanted to be is the same one that my grandmother wanted to be, only her Nancy was blonde and wore tweed suits, and my Nancy was a redhead and drove a convertible.

I don't know. I'm just trying to plug holes in the boat with whatever I can get my hands on. To concatenate correctly between this and that and everything.

Because I was reading today about autism, and about how they're starting to figure out that what happens in our brains happens everywhere else too. How maybe our environment is what's causing our children to be trapped inside their brains. How we are delicate and easily broken but not so easily repaired.

I've still never found any actual proof that there's a pike in each of the fountains at Versailles, to keep the carp active--this comes from John Huston's eulogy for Humphrey Bogart, because all the really good information comes out when people have died--but I like to think that it's true. And even if it isn't true, I'm pretty sure it's important.