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.

Two things, goddamn it, because I'm going to make time for you.

1. At work we have these "peel and seal" envelopes where the flap is pre-gummed so you don't have to lick it. This is swell if you receive one as an SASE because having to lick an SASE envelope from someone I don't know always causes me to wait out the subsequent hour or so in a state of anxiety, wondering when the acid trip is going to start. So envelopes from strangers that I don't have to lick = good news. The bad thing is they're the devil to open using my preferred envelope-opening procedure (insert finger under flap and gently unstick flap from envelope, thus preserving envelope for letter/bill/photo storage) (also, I just have to point out that I never use the phrase "the devil" in conversation, but writing it gave me a frisson of angry eighteenth-century British imperialist in a Royal Navy uniform, and I hope you got one, too). But today I noticed with deep chagrin that the printed strip that you peel off before you seal the envelope says "Peel 'n' Seel," and I thought two things: (1) By Jove, I must be in America, where it's every marketing department's duty to quote simplify unquote the goddamned spelling of everyfuckingthing in an effort to be cute, and (2) Why not "Peal and Seal"? Let laughter ring out with every envelope you stuff! May your days be merry and bright, and may all your gubernatorial candidates be white.

2. As I walked face-first into yet another sidewalk spider web today on my way back into the apartment for lunch, I wasn't sure whether to rejoice that I get to come face to face with the miracle of nature in my low foot traffic neighborhood (honestly, you just don't walk into spider webs on Madison Avenue, and if you did the next thing you would hear would either be "Cut! How did that pedestrian get in the shot!?" or the sound of your femurs being digested), or just be sickened as usual as I squeamishly checked my hair for biting, poisonous, predatory little fuckers.