Sesame Street talk always leads me to tell the story of how Bob came to talk at our convocation when I was in college. Picture an auditorium of jaded and worldly music students, regressing en masse.

He did autographs afterwards, and a die hard jazzer admitted in front of the whole line that Bob was his favorite and asked for a hug. Very allergy inducing.

All the dumb-things-done-when-small stories are cracking me up.

When I was six, I noticed that the chewable vitamin c pills seemed to be the same size as the holes in our rotary phone. They were. Exactly. I filled every hole, and my mom had a heck of a time getting them out. I remember that shaking the phone upside down vigorously was not sufficient.

However, at least I didn't cause bodily injury. In junior high or high school, my cousin rigged up a "flying machine" that looked pretty much like Superman's cape only made of sticks and garbage bags, took a running start, and jumped off the deck to see if he could fly. He did go a fair ways from the house before hitting ground and breaking his arm.

Ooh, maybe he was there to get thrown into the castle dungeon.

With the trapdoor up on the tower!

I have none of these stories. WTF is wrong with me.

OK, then, let's do a "Most Fun Things Ever from Childhood" trip down memory lane!

For me, it was hanging with my cousins and playing at Gramma's farm. By the time I was born, all the animals were gone except for my great-uncle's old horse Dolly, who he kept boarded at the stable. So, in addition to very occasional rides on her (she was old, after all), we were able to play in the chicken house and dairy barn (with the great hay loft that had the basketball hoop set up for a pick-up game) that still had a lot of equipment that was cool to look at, climb the six apple trees and eat the apples when they got big enough (and get sick when they weren't), first washing them in the outdoor well, and in the fall pick sweet corn in the small field between the farmhouse and Uncle Ray's ranch house next door.

Oh, about the hanging toys: My family has a tradition of meaningful Christmas tree ornaments -- things that represent stuff in our lives that year. So, one year, my father did some skydiving. My mother mocked up a skydiving ornament, out of an action figure and a hankerchief and some string. But to get it to hang properly, the string has to go around the poor guy's neck, too. Oops.

We used to make bows and arrows out of old bike innertubes and broomsticks. Actually had real arrows, though I'm not sure where they came from.

bon, just hope that there isn't a stupid-tricks allotment in life. So much easier to live this stuff down when you can say "I was only 5!"

bon, just hope that there isn't a stupid-tricks allotment in life. So much easier to live this stuff down when you can say "I was only 5!"

Ha! Right? I can't believe that I was so inhibited as a kid; I can believe I made it all back via the wonderful world of alcohol. It's just like being a kid again!

In the never ending story of Sophia's cat-mauling, I just got off the phone with my Dr, and he is giving me 5 more days of anti-biotics.

You know, I don't really have any really good memories from childhood. I mean, I have memories, and I know I had fun, but I can't pinpoint anything from when I was under, say 11 years old. I did enjoy skiing around my neighbors fields, but I think I may have been older.

It can't hurt to be cautious, Sophia.