Today, I read the final installment of Dooce’s birth story. I think that’s one of the best birth stories — if not the best — I’ve ever read. Her style is so vibrant, in-your-face (yay cliché phrases!), and humorous. I adore humorous people, and at times I try to emulate them in anyway I can. I don’t believe I do a very good job of it, but I suppose it’s the effort that counts. In any case, I must post this discretionary piece of advice for those of you who aren’t quite fond of “foul language.” I personally don’t mind it, especially seeing as how it brings me comfort — I did grow up in NYC, where rush hour traffic consisted of car horns honking and people cursing. I guess I also felt a little more inclined to enjoy her work after reading her “about” section, in which I learned she’s a fellow English degree holder. I also learned she’s living my dream — neither parent has to work thanks to the wonders of the Internet. Rock on.
It would seem I’m most certainly accumulating good reading. One of these days, it might be nice to become one of the read rather than just being the reader. To dream big is to live in my world.
