YIKES, CINDY! And I thought I freaked out over O splashing in the toilet. This story made me break out into a cold sweat.

Cashmere, I should have told you more of these stories...before. Last night, when we talked about it again, he said, "But my head is very hard. The bag is very soft." I refrained from making a crack about his oh-so-hard head, and again explained this wasn't that it would give him a boo boo, but that the bag could seal off his mouth and nose, and make him stop breathing, which would make him die. Ugh.

Yikes, Cindy! What a heart-stopper!

I think it actually might have, -t.

Cindy, I am a firm believer in scaring the shit out of your kids and making them cry if it stops them from doing life threatening stupid shit. Fear of God is all fine and dandy, but Fear of Dad is a better security measure.

Heh. Since Daddy was at work, Fear of Mommy (and danger! and death! by suffocation! and possibly choking!) was instilled. That's the only time I purposefully holler at my kids--when they're doing something death-defying.

Five or ten years ago, my father told my mother and me he could remember his mother saying something like, "See that paint? Don't eat the paint. Don't eat the paint, because if you eat the paint, you'll die. You'll die, and they'll dig a hole in the ground. They'll dig the hole and put you in the hole, and cover it up with dirt, and we won't see you ever again."

Now, I remember his mother well, and she was a kind, good humored person, much like my Dad. She enjoyed her four sons, and didn't have a mean bone in her body. Dad's father was much the same. The sternest things my Dad ever said to me were, "What's the matter with you, Cindy? You know better than that," and "What's all that noise?" That was the breadth and depth of Dad's disciplinary action.

I can only imagine a little boy who looked very much like Christopher, (and who had an identical twin, and an older brother, and a younger brother) picking constantly at paint in a window sill, or on the side of the house, or something like that, to drive his mother to fear monger like that.

I think she would have been proud of me, yesterday!

Cindy, I think you should bear in mind should Hec ever come to visit that he is a firm believer in scaring the shit out of your kids. You might like to put down some newspaper.

Hee! Oh, dear, billytea. We stopped our subscriptions. Maybe I should just get diapers?

I have new Oz pictures! They were taken with the sidekick, so they're not of the best quality, but you can tell he's grown a lot.

Want sweater off! It's summer in Texas!

Hee. Probably exactly what he was thinking. Oz really did get big. My word, he grew quickly. Even with the picture quality, you can see he's got those eyes that make your heart melt, Heather.

Oh god, Cindy! How absolutely terrifying. I hope you are feeling calmer now. I think I might just have a panic-y attack for you though.

Thanks, Cass. After it was over, I hyperventilated, when I was alone, upstairs. I started to again, when I was talking to my mother on the phone. Once I understood his explanation, I felt a little better, though.

I've been reading your discussion with Plei about riding. I only rode a handful of times, few enough times that although I'm familiar with some of the terms you're using, I couldn't explain the differences. That's something I've always regretted not doing. I will have to talk to Scott about trying to find a place to take the kids, to give it a whirl. I think they would love it, and that it would be good for them, too.

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Cutiehead Oz made me remember this picture I took last night: [link]

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Timelies.

Cindy, that's so scary! I don't even know....

Jealous of Cass for having access to horses, even though there is pain involved.

My root canal didn't really hurt, although the crown was tender for a few days. Well, not the crown technically, but if I worried it with my tongue. I asked the dentist about it and he gave me a weird look and said, "Well, don't play with it then."

Anyway, yeah, the whole procedure took three office visits over 4 days, and there were no movie goggles or music or anything, but it's pretty far down my list of Things That Hurt.

I found the World's Ugliest Dress today. It's a sack dress, with those little bubbly elasticized cap sleeves. The fabric is neon green with purple Slazenger leopards all over it. They inset yellow and pink lace at the neckline. They crudely cut out three leopard silhouettes (about 3" long each) from black felt, tacked them to crocheted whitish doilies, and stuck them randomly on the chest area. € 246.00.

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Between lead paint and plastic bags, it's a miracle any of us are here!

I wonder if the fuggers will get on this one.

You could email it to them... Oh, speaking of fug, have you all seen the picture of Fergie looking like she peed in her pants? (And the story is that she did.)

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Ooh, Raq -- that calls for a picture!

I was tired enough this morning that when I transferred subway lines (at Park Street) that I went up the wrong staircase to the opposite direction track, tried to correct myself by going DOWN another staircase, got turned around and WENT UP THE SAME STAIRCASE as the first time. So I had to go back down and figure out which was the right stairs, further along the track.

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Uhg.

I have a head cold. You know, one of those things where your soft palate (I think that's the term) feels swollen and one sinus is upset, but it manages to make you eyes water and the muscles in your neck hurt? yeah that.

I get on a plane tomorrow. To go infect relatives, apparently.

And taking sick leave is pretty much not an option at this point.

You know what? If the past three weeks are any indication of what 30 is, fuckit.

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I was tired enough this morning that when I transferred subway lines (at Park Street) that I went up the wrong staircase to the opposite direction track, tried to correct myself by going DOWN another staircase, got turned around and WENT UP THE SAME STAIRCASE as the first time. So I had to go back down and figure out which was the right stairs, further along the track.

Heh, I think I know exactly which staircase you kept going up.

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It was partly because I squoze myself onto a crowded subway car about 40 feet further down the track than usual, and ended up thinkign that I was 40 feet in the opposite direction than usual -- so maybe 80 feet off from where I usually am in relation to the stairs I like to take.

(Yes, I have not only favorite staircases, but favorite positions in my main commuting stations for maximizing the efficiency of my commute. It's not anality, it's laziness raised to a high art.)

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This is totally normal, Theo. I used to usually sit in the same seat when I commuted on the DC metro. It means you can go on auto-pilot to get to work. But if you change the routine, it can be bewildering!

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