The Spirit of the MOLE

Let’s hear it for SNOW!  The first big storm of 2018 is here and the weatherman assures me it WILL BE BAD.  Can I get a HOLLA! from all the folks playing Tetris and making babies right now!  WOOT! WOOT!

I just put a cake in the oven (not a euphemism for baby-making) and am waiting for it to be done.  It’s a new recipe and it damn well better be good.  The batter started spraying out of the bowl while I was mixing it on the VERY lowest possible setting and it flew everywhere – counter, cabinets, the floor.  I grabbed a dishtowel to cover the damn thing and it got all over my new hoodie and just missed my brand new suede boots!!!  I started screaming FUUUUUUDGE.  Only I didn’t say FUUUUUUDGE.  My husband came in and announced my new nickname’s Sailor.  I said FUCK YEAH.

My daughter told me the funniest thing yesterday.  She texted from school all excited to let me know she’d discovered her SPIRIT ANIMAL.  Really!  This week is “Intensives Week” at my daughters’ public high school (a place we lovingly call the “Hippie School.”)  For 4-days the students select a course of study- things like candy making, snowshoeing, journalism.  Lots of cool subjects to explore.  My younger daughter is “Deconstructing Race in America” and spent yesterday at Bowdoin College.  My older daughter is delving deep into “The Self” in a philosophy class.  So yesterday they brought in 2 shaman who led the students via drum-trance to find their spirit animal.  She texted me elated bc she found out her spirit animal is…


Now if this seems funny, bc it really really is, even funnier is the fact that I actually BELIEVE her spirit animal is (could be) NOT – IS!  a mole.  I can’t believe I actually typed that.  But it’s true!  All during my daughter’s childhood she wanted to live – not in a princess castle, but in a hole in the ground.  I AM NOT KIDDING.  She would talk about wanting to grow up and have (essentially) a hobbit house in my backyard.  Where she could live- not in a walled abode, but in a cozy dirt hole filled with leaves and moss and more.  She wanted to invite me to her dirt hole to eat dinner and have sleepovers.  She’d make spaghetti.  YES, she was that specific and she’d talk about it constantly.  Her favorite game growing up was a rodent-filled fiesta called “Spy Mice.”  A favorite book?  Wind in the Willows.  I never thought I’d write this but, YES, my daughter’s spirit animal is a mole.

Now if you are wondering whether this whole “shaman-spirit animal” thing is tax-payer funded I can assure you, YES IT IS.  If that troubles you, somewhat understandably, then just think of what we’re paying the Secret Service to guard a treasonous golden turd.


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