So Much Depends Upon A Blue Car

I Don't Remember Titles Of Books Or Authors From When I Was Young. I Remember The Title Of Only One Book, Which Was 'the Timber Toes.' I Remember It Was A Family Of Little Wooden People Who Lived In The Woods, And For Some Reason That Stayed With Me.

Sometimes When You Are Trying Not To Think About Something It Keeps Popping Back In Your Head You Can't Help It You Think About It And Think About It And Think About It Until Your Brain Feels Like A Squashed Pea.

I Wondered About Mrs. Winterbottom And What She Meant About Living A Tiny Life. If She Didn't Like All That Baking And Cleaning And Jumping Up To Get Bottles Of Nail Polish Remover And Sewing Hems, Why Did She Do It? Why Didn't She Tell Them To Do Some Of The Things Themselves? Maybe She Was Afraid There Would Be Nothing Left For Her To Do. There Would Be No Need For Her And She Would Become Invisible And No One Would Notice.

The Sea, The Sea, The Sea. It Rolled And Rolled And Called To Me. Come In, It Said, Come In.

...but It Doesn't Feel Crazy To Us. It Feels Like What We Do.