Root also had a wonderful character role in Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? -- he was the blind racist owner of the radio station, IIRC.

Adding to the funny votes.

Depending on the age of said babies, krav might have to rapidly develop some new techniques. I mean, how the hell do you develop a hand-to-hand defense against projectile vomiting? Or, god forbid, the fingerpainting-from-diapers? And there is always the crusty nose....

My mom is adorable. She emailed me to let me know that her principal recognized the necklace I gave her as modelled after DNA (from Uncommon Goods.)

Different age range of baby in that last post of mine, Burrell. But I can see as how not evryone shares my perspective.

Though there are often babies at krav (there was one woman who trained while visibly pregnant, and once she stopped still accompanied her two other kids-her bump is now walking and talking, and his mother brings him with whether she's training (she was back about four months post partum) or accompanying her eldest who is now in iinstructor training). This paragraph brought to you by When Parantheses Run Amok.

You have no idea how parenthetical I get before I post. I'm really bad.

Devi drools when she naps. Huh.

You know what smells good? Vintage Western Candles' Prairie Grass. Must find more online. Also, the other that came in the package, Tyler's Pumpkin Spice. Extra extra kudos to msbelle for these.

I'm just in a mood to smell nice things, and this works well.

Someone colder than me needs to try this.

Michael has come back to Donna, and she'll never sleep with her daughter's ex-husband ever again. Which is a shame, since he's got BBOC factor in spades.

I was thinking that the link related to the paragraph following. I'm so confused.

No idea about that para either, Laura.

In any case, I used to have relatives who could do that water trick some winters in SD. Not so much this winter, though. Uncle is worried about lack of a good freeze.

Oh, that reminds me of something that startled me this past summer. My uncle is wired. Seriously, his tractors are now GPS driven. It shouldn't surprise me, since he's one of the few successful family farmers left in the area (rest are tenants of Monsanto and ilk,) and he's accomplished that by innovation and adoption, and is doing well. But Uncle C... the last sort of person you'd expect to speak gps and satellites. He's a drawling, farmertanned, sunburnt midwesterner, still wearing Navy issue 1970s-era glasses.

And, um... there are ants living in my keyboard. AHRg.

I love this. Enough to almost make me wish I remembered how to knit.

Project Runway: Now the scene I saw being filmed last spring makes a helluva lot more sense! (Tim repeatedly walking past a bunch of dancing models in windows carrying a ballot box.)