Via one of my favorite blogs, Bookslut:

“At eleven, I befriended Tabitha Shaw, who had untamed orange hair and was the only girl in my sixth grade of John Burroughs Elementary School to wear black all the time. Her mother, unlike those of the rest of my friends, worked outside the home and had an apron that read HOUSEWORK IS BULLSHIT in three-inch capital letters. At the Shaws’ there was dust on the furniture. There was no adult supervision after school. Tabitha and I gorged on store-bought cookies and pored over Ms. Magazine, which had recently resurrected the comic book icon Wonder Woman. Inspired by her, we fastened towels around our necks with clothespins and — in every working mom’s nightmare of what the kids are up to in her absence — climbed a ladder onto the roof of the garage. The distance to the next building was slightly longer than a leggy eleven-year-old’s stride, yet we took deep breaths and leapt — screaming, “WONDER WOMAN! WONDER WOMAN!” — flying from roof to roof and back again, towel capes streaming behind us. It was my first foray into feminism.

Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to tie a towel around my neck and practice my leaping.”

I heart Jessa Crispin.

I had a crappy day - just one of those days of death by 1000 cuts, small misfortunes, luxury problems, split ends, hangnails, rainstorms, circumstances beyond my control. Today? Suckage. Tomorrow? I am tying a dishtowel around my neck and practicing leaping.

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