This little piggy went to Washington DC where we found him in the
gutta, snout all dirty just like the real thing we saw at the pumpkin patch
in south carolina. It was a wild night here in Edina. I vowed to make it
an all-night movie marathon and I did; watched March of the Penguins (the
National Geographic extra was indicative of the fear-response emotional
manipulation common to much US media), The Holy Grail (it had been too long
since i'd seen it), and the "first" two Star Wars films (I&II) which
i'd avoided because they were just too everything at the time they came out.
But I was pleasantly surprised at how nuanced they were, like maybe there's
a tipping point in everyone's life where they more or less decide what use
to make of their strengths. (Good intentions go awry when warped by pride.)
To make a short story long, I made it through the night, dawn broke, someone
delivered the New York Times, and young Sarah left for school and quickly
returned saying she'd found her mother's purse on the front stoop. That's
honesty for you.