Eden M. Kennedy

mission accomplished, pal

Eden M. Kennedy is the co-author (with Alice Bradley) of the book Let's Panic About Babies! (St. Martin's Press, 2011).

A former college-radio DJ, Mrs. Kennedy has driven cross-country six times in a 1973 Volkswagen Bug and enjoys standing on her head.

Currently she works a straight job and is just about finished writing her first novel.

Yesterday I talked on the phone with a friend I hadn't seen or spoken with in almost twelve years. It was great fun. He's one of those people who, once I left the Big City, I pretty much never expected to keep in touch with, but a few years ago I must have been drunk and poorly occupied nostalgiac so I Googled his name and voilà! We were back in touch through the freakin' miracle that is e-mail.

Talking to him was such a pleasure that I decided to Google the names of my best friends from fourth grade. Here is what I found:

1. Kristin: Lives on a farm and breeds dogs with her husband. (That totally sounds like her husband and the dogs are breeding together. Sorry! Sorry Kristin! Do you still keep a diary of the boys you kissed, and leave it open by your bed and leave the room so that your sleepover friends can read it? Do you still have pee stains in your underwear?)

2. Siri: Appears to have written a "harvest crew marketing report" some time in the last ten years, but the link is dead. (Oh, Siri, is your hair still the kinkiest, nappiest curly hair a white girl can have? Did you make good on your threat to marry a black boy and have "Oreo cookie babies"? Do you still dance naked in front of your drug-addict older brother who made Molotov cocktails in the garage and skied down the black slopes on acid?)

3. Yvette: Nothing. Rien. Not a whisper. How is it possible, in this day and age, NOT TO HAVE AN INTERNET PRESENCE? (Yvette, your mother never liked me, and the smell of your father's cigars made me sick. Still, we both had a poster of Sylvester Stallone in our rooms. When we were little we watched King Kong together in your basement with the lights turned off to make it spooky, and when we were older we watched The Excorcist on cable and were too freaked to sleep at all in that tent in your back yard. You taught me to play the piano. I hope that those girl gangs at that school you switched to when you moved away didn't beat you up for your candy bars like they said they would.)

By the way, there are some new links on the left, check them out.