Wow, Stephanie -- when are you moving?
I know, right? I wouldn't steer you wrong on the gooooood druuuuugs, baby.
Were you on the good drugs, I would not at all be surprised to find wrong steering on the agenda, regardless of assurances.
Heh. I drove a LOT while I was on the good drugs, mostly b/c I had no other choice, as I didn't have (and still don't have, come to think of it) a chauffeur, husband, minion, spider-eating manbitch, or roommate.
So there was probably wrong steering. Which wasn't as fun as the doped-up phone calls I made to various Buffistas.
J should be back in November, is that right? So we'll have you for a few months before you leave us. And then - F2F 2007: San Juan. That counts as East Coast, right?
I can't do
jack
(nor Jack, I suspect) on flexoril. I'm fine for a couple hours, and then I really really have to sleep. I feel like ass when I wake up, but at least the pain's usually gone.
They're very good at getting grime off computer keyboards and the lovely-but-dirt-attracting white iBooks.
Ooh that's good to know. I haven't used mine enough for it to get that dirty yet but it's only a matter of time. (I evidently have used it enough for two of the little, rubber feet to have fallen off and gotten lost which is highly annoying.) My roommate and I are talking about all the things we can use the Magic Eraser on. She's a receptionist at a law firm "I'd use it to erase the voices of annoying folks. 'i can't hear you, i've erased your voice.'"
Congrats to your husband, Stephanie. It seems like that would be an exciting move!
I don't know anything about PR, but that sounds like a great assignment, Stephanie. I know ExArmyBrother enjoyed his stint running a ROTC program.
Just remembered a climbing story!
When I was four and my little sister had started climbing... My Dad got home from work, pooped, and my Mother greeted him with the news that the baby had started climbing and they needed to move some furniture. Then then spent the next hour or so moving things so the baby would be safe.
One of the things was a big trunk under a window. Every day after work Dad would sit in his chair and I would sit on the trunk and we would talk. You see it coming, right? As soon as they were done with the great move of '74 Dad sat down in his chair and I, having no trunk, hopped up on the window sill. About two seconds later the screen gave way.
We were on the first floor, but the basement was above ground so I fell nearly a story. Mom was hanging up laundry on the porch and saw me fly past her about ten feet away. I vividly remember the feel of the screen breaking, the scream of my Mother, how cold the x-ray room was, and being very upset that I missed the fair that night. I don't remeber the broken arm hurting at all.
Oh, I love PR. Fun!
I don't remember any traumatic injuries as a child (I was too busy almost dying of kidney infections and asthma msot of the time), but my sister once bit her tongue in half sledding. The dog had been digging in the snow, she hit a bump and had to be rushed to the ER for stitches.
Ooh, yeah, I was sledding once and hit the lone tree for miles around. (They filmed it, but I don't think my mother could bear showing it every Christmas.) And my uncle's near-200 pound dog jumped up to greet my brother once and accidentally put his fang right through Bro's upper lip. Good times, good times.
My own worst childhood injury wasn't a fall from a height but a running crash, face-first into a corner of the fireplace. I still have a slightly lopsided smile because of it.
Now that I think about it, falling out of bed not long after I graduated from a crib and narrowly missing losing an eye to the corner of a baseboard heater was probably worse, but I don't remember that one. But you can still see the stitches scar.
Once my brother got pissed off at me and threw the cat on me. I still have a scar from where she clawed into my arm after landing.
