susan jennings

Jesus built my battleship

I had a very unsettling dream that the United States was at war. I awoke in horror. In my dream, we were at war with Iraq and China. Iraq had, in its wisdom, solicited China to join them in invading the United States, to stop our meddling in the affairs of the East. We're meddlers; it's what we *do.* If I were them I'd be pissed off too. The initial strategy was very clear: Iraq wanted to do the actual invasion, but they needed China's size and weaponry to cast the initial blow. China began by invading Japan and setting up bases there. Of course when that happened the rest of the world became extremely concerned at China's actions, and of course China was reprimanded by the United Nations an

Raining, soaring, singing

I've become addicted to Napster. I know, I know, better late than never. But it's so great, I keep finding all these things I had on vinyl years ago and had to sell during my hungry student days, and never bothered to update into my growing CD collection. So right now it's pouring rain, and I'm sitting in the window of my bedroom in Cambridge and listening to the perfect Rainy Day song, "Haunted (When the Minutes Drag)" by Love & Rockets, thanks to some lovely Napster user someplace. I'm having one of those perfect moments. You know the thing... where the weather, the mood and the music all come together to meet inside your head and suddenly you're overwhelmed by bliss. It almost always invo

Cousin who?

I always revel in time with my family. Last weekend I saw my Dad, my uncle Dick (his brother), and their cousin Penny, who is my second cousin once removed I think (but that sounds so rude!). Pretty much all members of my family are, in my opinion, extraordinary people I am proud to know -- much less share genetic material with. My grama Mary used to have this big amazing ink-drawn family tree scroll. She unscrolled it for me a few times, and I would look at all the names and ranks (Civil War captains and colonels and stuff) in awe. Mostly I looked at the surnames, thinking, "Anderson? I'm an Anderson?" or somesuch. One grows accustomed to one's own surname, and perhaps has somewhat of an at

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© 2018 Susan Jennings

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