A new feature here at Northern word is "My Life: Fabuloused" in which Susan takes treasured childhood memories and destroys them by making shit up. Because why should James Frey have all the fun.
When I was five, we lived in Reno, Nevada, and once when I was hanging out in my backyard, I was overrun by a terrible swarm of ants. I lacked the sense to immediately stand up and brush off the creatures, and so the swarm enveloped me quickly. But the time I jumped up in horror, the ants were climbing all over my body, all the way up to the top of my head, where they kept climbing, one on top of another, until they created a narrow tower of ants. As I stumbled around in 5-year-old stupor, this tower leaned over until it formed the top of a question mark. I wandered our barren Nevada yard with this punctuation on my head for most of an hour, until finally the insects answered their own question and leapt off in the form of an exclamation point, never to be seen again.
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