Kansas, I think. References to Topeka.

Funny thing is, when I was younger, I gobbled up nuclear war shows, books, etc. I could practically quote Sadako. Maybe it was a coping mechanism (but then, I can recall just about every one in detail.) Didn't spin me then. Now I watched because I couldn't turn away because... I don't know why. I coulda watched b-stars dancing, right?

We all have coping mechanisms. A couple of my duty stations stored nukes and I never thought about it while I was there. Only after I transferred, I'd have nightmares about being there when the nukes went off. Brrrr.

Sail, I can see how that would happen. I honestly don't recall having nuke nightmares until fairly recently. Not sure if tv or other stuff is responsible. Once the immediacy has past, maybe?

A few years back, I went out to lunch with a something-removed cousin and her 15 year old daughter who were in DC for, of all things, some academic history thing. We started talking world politics. I was hit with the realization that the USSR was ancient history to the daughter. And yet, I'd been there and was only 7 years older than her (I was her first babysitter, sorta. She was my first babysittee.) She had no idea. She didn't grow up in the Cold War. It was all text in musty old books. And mere years before, my family had looked at a house with a freaking bomb shelter. And while odd, it really wasn't.

My gut level freaks are reserved for that old version, nukes. While horrified by targetted planes and biologics, nukes still command my adrenaline response whatever. Isn't rational, it's emotional.

Made bread today, from a Cook's Illustrated recipe. I have to say, I prefer the Honey Oatmeal recipe that came with the mixer to the oatmeal recipe from CI. It's oatier.

Man, I'd love some homebaked bread. I'm too lazy and know too well if I baked my own bread? I'd eat it all by morning. Me love bread.

While horrified by targetted planes and biologics, nukes still command my adrenaline response whatever. Isn't rational, it's emotional.

Exactly. It's the thought that all that duck and cover we practiced in the shool basement really wouldn't have made a damn difference. But, when you're seven? You don't really comprehend or analyze it. It just is. It's the monster in the closet. Maybe it's there, maybe it isn't. But it sure has big teeth.

I didn't/couldn't let the bread cool as instructed. I think taking a couple slices will help the rest cool, so it's all for the best.

God, that butter melted like a dream.

I'm ignoring the horrible nookilur talk, since it still freaks me out. Ultimate powerlessness.

People don't believe that I still had duck'n'cover until 2nd grade in the eighties. Maybe my district was old school, I dunno. But I did know at 7 that it was useless. Whacky quaker parents and all that. I recall something about 30 minutes warning, given we were sandwiched between an army base and an AF one. Plus a missile range on the other side of the mountains, 30 miles away. I had A Plan. Which is totally fucked for an elementary student, but yeah. Morbid. I should ask my brother if he has similar memories, 3 years behind me.

I think taking a couple slices will help the rest cool, so it's all for the best.

YOU ARE MEAN. MEAN MEAN MEAN.

Glad I'm not the only freaker.

WANT. BREAD!

See what you made me do, ita? It's all your fault.