Heh. I was not a climber, as my dad would put books on top of the fridge when he was tired of seeing me read them (apparently, my first "chapter" book ever, "Key to the Treasure", I read over and over and over and over...I was about 5. If they'd only bothered to find out there was a SEQUEL...I didn't read it until about two years ago!)

My sister, OTOH, was about 2 when she and her best friend (same age) toddled off to go to the candy store together...across a busy street...But apparently it was OK for them to walk to each others houses together? (Unclear if they were thought to be going from friend's house to ours or vice versa, but apparently that was OK!! And I know my sister was less than 3, because we moved away before she turned 3...) Though these days I'm shocked at many of the freedoms I had as like, a five year old. OTOH, it was in a fairly small city. But still!

I had a cat nanny who would stay under my crib for as long as I was in it. He (Artie) would not let my father get anywhere near me. Brave little prescient creature.

In medical news. Fela's septum reassignment seems to have gone amazingly well. He says he can breathe better than he ever has in his life...and he is only 4 days out from the surgery.

Also, his voice is fully 2 or 3 tones lower. Very nice for him.

In training news, I've been walking 7, 8 and 9 mile days recently. This marathon thing? Piece a cake. remind me that I said that later...

When I was about 5, we lived in Germany. We lived in a compound that consisted of 10 apartment buildings in a big rectangle (seemed huge to me, but I bet I'd be surprised if I went back there). There we no gates, but sort of a clear border of the buildings. I was not supposed to go outside of the border. My friend Jill and I decided to venture out. We got out to the street, maybe about 50 feet from the border, we felt very grown up. Until my father was driving by in a military convoy, saw us, and STOPPED THE CONVOY to get out and yell at me. I'm still embarrassed.

I have no memory of me wandering off as a child. I think I was pretty happy to stay where I was, as long as I had a book and a stuffed animal to talk to.

Jilli is me.

Except when I wear jeans.

Until my father was driving by in a military convoy, saw us, and STOPPED THE CONVOY to get out and yell at me. I'm still embarrassed.

I wonder if that ended up in the official report.

My time was divided between reading and playing house. I think problems arose when the caretaker thought I was doing one, but I had decided to go do the other. I would play house with anything, including rocks and pebbles, so there wasn't much way of predicting where I'd do it.

My brother was far worse than I was about taking off. When he was 14 he hitchhiked to DC to protest the Vietnam War and came back home 4 days later reeking of tear gas. My poor mother.

eta: about 400 miles

I grew up with a lot of woods surrounding our 4-acre lot and not much in the way of other children to play with. I'd often wander off in to the woods with a book and a juicebox and be gone for hours.

Of course, like as not I'd be in my playhouse, treehouse, or hammock, so Mom didn't have to freak out too many times.

I actually came home from work early today (~1 pm) because the pulled muscle is in the back of my thigh, and sitting on it was a tricksy proposition, and walking was embarrassingly painful.

I intended to work the rest of the afternoon -- even brought manuscripts home -- but I took a flexiril, ate some lunch, and food + muscle relaxant = snoozin' Tep.

I think I will actually be diligent, though, and get some of the work done now, as I'm propped up on my bed in a sitting-with-my-legs-out-straight position, with an ice pack under my leg.

Yoga. Sheesh! Namaste, motherfucker.

t shallow

Hmmph. Apparently Guess made the style of handbag I'm looking for. With a giant, appalling G -logo thing on the front. I suppose, since I would be epoxying a pink skull & crossbones cameo to the front of the handbag anyway, the giant appalling G isn't that big a deal. But still. Guess.

t / shallow