The cute jeans that I will never, ever fit in again. WHAT HAPPENED TO MY METABOLISM??
@ba-na-nas I think it's called "Silence."
Wonderful Alice Munro. That story about the narrator's adult daughter who gets old enough and just leaves, never speaking to her again, then later she hears that someone saw her in another city and she had a family and seemed happy. And the narrator doesn't know why she doesn't speak to her.
@iceberg thanks! i hope she does understand. for now, she explains the lack of visiting by saying that she knows it's hard to travel with a toddler.
I have a toddler and my mom has a husband who keeps guns all over the house. I haven't visited her since he's been able to walk. She comes to my house or we meet somewhere else. I had been feeling a little bit guilty about it, but not after reading the excerpts from this (and NO WAY am I going to be able to read this article).
This is what I was thinking. EVERY SINGLE BUMP on the way to the hospital (then from, then to again...because they sent me home the first time) was very, very unpleasant. Bumps plus straddling something that is moving sounds really very unpleasant (but better than maternal mortality, of course).
One time, a roomie burned me a cd which is "hey ya" by outkast 28 times in a row. I think that counts. It was fab for washing the dishes, though.
@noodge Cactus is good. If you're creepy.
My Bloody Valentine. I am from the past.
On Which Name Is Weirder, Saxby Chambliss or Barkevious Mingo? The Answer May Tell You Whether or Not You're Racist
So, I have registered emergency room patients named Nokia and Toshiba, so that's real, but I have the following names in my (white Southern, obvs) family: Southey, Atlas, Burleigh, Blanche, and Thoroughgood. The Northern side of my family is a bit more restrained on the naming front.