in other random mom stuff...
May. 23rd, 2007 11:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katekatHave you ever read anything by Haruki Murakami? He's one of the writers that got me into Japanese literature. I adore him. My mom finally picked up one of his books (and the first time I'd suggsted him to her was 1997). However, it produced this email:
This is why I love her. I just hope she doesn't kill me for posting it for the world to see...
Here’s what I get from reading a whole book of Murakami short stories:
I had just finished a story about the "ice man" - you can read it when you receive the book I send. It was early morning. For some unknown reason, I was up at 6:30 a.m., unusual for even me, and started reading immediately. About 8 o'clock, I felt hungry. I got one of those ready made biscuit packages from the refrigerator, popped it open and put the biscuits on the cookie sheet. I turned on the oven to heat to 400 degrees. I got out a brie, the kind with the green basil pesto slathered between the layers, unwrapped it and placed it on a plate retreived from the clean dishes on the kitchen counter. I took an orange from the fesh fruit bin and began cutting it into wedges. It had one of those little oval labels on it saying "California Minnesota, USA." I thought, because I had been in Greece, Singapore and at the South Pole with Murakami: "Oh, this is from the United States." Then my world shifted and I thought: "I'm in the United States." And there I was, back in my own kitchen with my own knife in my hand, slicing up an orange at my own kitchen counter.
I had just finished a story about the "ice man" - you can read it when you receive the book I send. It was early morning. For some unknown reason, I was up at 6:30 a.m., unusual for even me, and started reading immediately. About 8 o'clock, I felt hungry. I got one of those ready made biscuit packages from the refrigerator, popped it open and put the biscuits on the cookie sheet. I turned on the oven to heat to 400 degrees. I got out a brie, the kind with the green basil pesto slathered between the layers, unwrapped it and placed it on a plate retreived from the clean dishes on the kitchen counter. I took an orange from the fesh fruit bin and began cutting it into wedges. It had one of those little oval labels on it saying "California Minnesota, USA." I thought, because I had been in Greece, Singapore and at the South Pole with Murakami: "Oh, this is from the United States." Then my world shifted and I thought: "I'm in the United States." And there I was, back in my own kitchen with my own knife in my hand, slicing up an orange at my own kitchen counter.
This is why I love her. I just hope she doesn't kill me for posting it for the world to see...
