And I've never done karaoke and would be kind of chicken to do so, even though I'm not shy about choir, the singalong at the F2F, or even the occasional solo. Huh.

Oh, and the good news WRT the above post--I discovered her newfound reach in time to get that big pottery bowl that Dylan bought at some kind of craft expo at work off the table. Which doesn't mean I've found a permanent place to store it yet, but oh well.

We need a bigger house. Or else less stuff.

Oh, as a child I once convinced my cousin (who was an adult) that my father would sometimes race the cows to the Back 40 and back, and that farmers would come from miles around to place bets on which cow would win.

I may have to go with that plan for shelves at 5' and 6' all around every wall in the house for storage after all.

I probably shouldn't tell you this, but soon after walking comes the ability to stack stuff. When he was shorter Bobby would stack boxes on top of chairs on top of stools to get to the uppermost cabinets. He was the tower king.

Susan, you could just Velcro the kid to the wall or the like. Leave your stuff where it is, and store Annabel at a 5-foot height.

It's the only way to save your sanity. (And your pottery.)

I'm not a shy girl at all, but I usually need at least one cocktail before I can karaoke or dance in public.

Ok, two cocktails.

I learned at a very early age not to ask my dad, and just to go look it up myself.

For a ditto we were doing in third, or fourth grade at the latest, I had to fill in the answer to a question about how WWII started. My mom told me to call and ask my grandfather, her dad, who had served in the Navy. So, I called, and not only can he not give me a quick answer, he had to go all the way back to the beginning of aggression in man. I was on the phone for TWO HOURS. He spent an extra long time making all the details of WWI clear to me, so I would have very specific context for the answer to my question. The entire time I kept trying to steer him back on track, but he would not be persuaded. I was all, "Yes, but... okay... fine, but... it's a ditto... okay... okay... no, I-... okay... but..." My mom was laughing so hard she turned neon red, was hysterically crying, and was laying on the floor, since she had lost all her muscle control.

I was talking to a friend's little five-year-old girl last week, and she was talking all about Santa had called her (It was a friend of mom's who identified himself as Santa).

I decided to run with it. I was talking to M (the little girl) and I asked her how she knew for sure it was Santa, and not just somebody pulling her leg. She said she knew because he said he was Santa.

I then proceeded to tell her that I was Santa's brother, and that I could put in a good word for her with the big guy. She was dubious at first, but by the end of the evening, I think I had her convinced, as she was telling everyone who would listen that Santa was going to bring her THREE ponies (just what I'd told her I could get Santa to give her).

I was quite amused.

He had my cousin convinced that tuna fish was possum in a can. Which is funny because my grandfather had the same cousin convinced that tamales were made from turtles.

My dad told my mom pimentos were lizard tongues.

Mom's very gullible. She believed it for years.

Never done Karaoke for the simple fact I can't sing. The only time I sing is when I'm alone or as part of a large group of people where my being off-key won't be particularly noticable.

The song that's always done in Karaoke in my experience is "Friends in Low Places", which I don't particularly like, but is guaranteed to be sung at least twice everytime.

Santa was going to bring her THREE ponies

Oh that is just mean.

Hee hee.

A number of kids that I grew up with thought that chocolate milk came from brown cows.