Lately (meaning within the last three days), whenever I've mounted my sketchy bike, one scene flashed through my head. It's the scene near the end of "Beetlejuice," when Winona Ryder leaves school on her bike, rolling cheerfully down the hill, waving to her friends. Now, I'm not Winona Ryder in a schoolgirl outfit, and while Kitakami is a mountain town, it's not quainte olde New England.
Is it because I'm rocking a messenger bag wherever I go? Is it because I'm married to a guy who builds models? Is it because I'm surrounded by young women who almost without exception wear white blouses, pleated skirts, and knee socks, regardless of whether they're schoolgirls? Did I spend altogether too much time watching this movie in my adolescence?
Incidentally, aspects of the 80s are alive and well here. Legwarmers, Paula Abdul's "Rush Rush" over the sound system at the Sakurano shopping center, and those red boxes of crinkle-cut fries from the early days of microwaves have all entered my sphere of experience. It is worth noting that the microwave fries share space with similar green boxes of microwaveable edamame.
Day-o!
Is it because I'm rocking a messenger bag wherever I go? Is it because I'm married to a guy who builds models? Is it because I'm surrounded by young women who almost without exception wear white blouses, pleated skirts, and knee socks, regardless of whether they're schoolgirls? Did I spend altogether too much time watching this movie in my adolescence?
Incidentally, aspects of the 80s are alive and well here. Legwarmers, Paula Abdul's "Rush Rush" over the sound system at the Sakurano shopping center, and those red boxes of crinkle-cut fries from the early days of microwaves have all entered my sphere of experience. It is worth noting that the microwave fries share space with similar green boxes of microwaveable edamame.
Day-o!