Let Dear Aunt Gwenda settle your mind

Fri 8 Oct 2010 - Filed under: Not a Journal., , | 5 Comments | Posted by: Gavin

Don’t agonize over whether to do this or that, over whether non-US corporations should be able to donate to the US Chamber of Commerce to fund their political ads, or whether you should walk up the stairs or take the elevator, ask Dear Aunt Gwenda!

Now is the time and here (or by email) is the place to send us your questions, your wonders, your inquiries for inquiring minds, your inexplicabilities, for Dear Aunt Gwenda to explicate in the next LCRW.

Coming soon!


5 Responses to “Let Dear Aunt Gwenda settle your mind”

  1. Steve on October 8th, 2010 1:59 pm

    Dear Aunt Gwenda,

    If I seek an interstitial boyfriend, does that mean I have to slipstreamproof the bed?

  2. David J. Schwartz on October 8th, 2010 2:49 pm

    Dear Aunt Gwenda:

    Is this the right time to buy a shotgun, move out to the middle of nowhere, and live off the land?


    Humans Make Me Tired

  3. Will A on October 8th, 2010 4:18 pm

    Dear Aunt Gwenda,

    What is the very first bedtime story you can remember listening to?

  4. Adam on October 8th, 2010 9:26 pm

    Dear Aunt Gwenda,

    Are the sons of the squaws on the hippopotamus hide equal to the sons of the squaws on the other two hides?


    Math is Hard

  5. Colleen on October 13th, 2010 2:30 am

    Dear Aunt Gwenda:

    When I was 16 my mother and stepfather bought me a Lane hope chest – just what every girl wanted. Over the next few years I filled it with things for when I was married as young girls are supposed to do. Off to college, out on my own, I took it with me. For 25 years I have hauled this big piece of carved cedar of early American design with a rose colored cushion on top from one end of the country to the other. It’s been in my guest room for the past 6 years. My mother sees it every time she comes to visit. But here’s the thing:

    I never liked it.

    A couple of weeks ago I sold it at a garage sale for $50. (Pretty good price I thought.) It has never been my style (more Laura Ingalls then Emma Peel) (I aspire to Emma Peel) and I was sick of keeping this thing simply because my mother bought it. But next year she will be back and she’s going to notice that it’s gone. So what do I say to her? Do I tell her the truth? Or say it’s in the store room buried under boxes? Or there was a fire and it was the only thing burned? (A stretch, I know.)

    Should I let her know I’ve never liked it? What do you think?


    All grown up and still terrified of my mother

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