Also, it's too bad my mother and I have several opposite opinions about how to handle stuff at the hospital.

Ugh, I hate that kind of thing as I get all kinds of conflict avoidy at those moments and just defer, unless I think something is going to be a problem.

She actually agreed with me in the end about the specific situation, and we had a good talk in the car about the principles. I'm really glad I've been in my support group as long as I have, because I have heard so much about how different people handle things.

During all the coverage of the Kennedy assassination, I can't help thinking, "President Kennedy. Still dead."

Yes, I remember where I was.

Oh god -- when I got to the hospital this morning, my mother was sitting in the waiting room crying, but I'm 90% sure it was actually because of the Kennedy stuff on the TV.

If Aurelia or NoiseDesign is around, I have a tech question. In professional theaters, when doing a 10 out of 12, do actors get into costume during those 10 hours or are they called in a half hour early in the morning and at dinner break( really making it 11 out of 12.

Late on this, but under a standard equity contract they on a 10 of 12 they are expected to be in the theatre for 10 of those 12 hours. So things like getting into costume have to fit into those 10 hours.

Under some equity contracts in Los Angeles 10 of 12 isn't even allowed, it's limited to 8 of 10.

There are also rules against directors giving notes during half hour, how performance calls work, etc. etc.

I thought pink-collar was female waitstaff and hairdressers. Possibly due to a strong memory of Flo from Alice.

Suzi, I was co-victim of a teacher who used another student and me as negative example to control the rest of the class. I was eleven, in a rocky place emotionally anyway. She changed my entire outlook on school, on life, on friends, on just about everything, and because I trusted adults, I believed I'd earned it. It took me a long time to actually realize what she'd done, and to get past it. I second and support all your mama-bear efforts in dealing with this person.

Someone tried to make off with my stringy faded 30 year old beach towel at the pool tonight. It was so odd. She grabbed it and started drying off and I was all "Honey, that's my towel." She just sort of looked at me blankly and asked what to do with it. "Uh, hang it back up?" On the hook? "Yeah, that works for me."

IDEK.

And I hated having to dry off with a damp chloriney towel someone else had used. Uhg.

Could she have spaced and mistaken it for hers? I embarassed myself years ago by grabbing the wrong shopping cart in the market, and I did not have water in my eyes. Or do you think she just grabbed a random towel hoping the owner would not be around?

No other towel in the entire pool area looked like it. I don't even know, her reaction was just so...not flustered, not concerned, as if she was waiting for me to give her permission to keep using it. The Y is often good for seeing the full spectrum of human behaviors...

Could she have spaced and mistaken it for hers? I embarassed myself years ago by grabbing the wrong shopping cart in the market, and I did not have water in my eyes. Or do you think she just grabbed a random towel hoping the owner would not be around?

Way back when I was in high school, my mother went shopping one day. Back then, my parents owned a Volvo station wagon, which had a lot of room for groceries. She left the supermarket with a full cart, found the Volvo, opened the back and started loading in the shopping bags. When she looked up, she saw two thoroughly unfamiliar schoolchildren sitting in the back seat and watching her with expressions of amazement and some small concern. It quickly dawned on her that this was not in fact our Volvo. She removed the shopping bags, apologising profusely, and explained "My car looks exactly like this one."

It was only when she got back to our car that she remembered the Volvo was in for a service that day, and she'd driven our other car. Thus it was that she drove slowly out of the parking lot, hunched in the front seat of a Mitsubishi Colt hatchback, straight past the unwavering attention of two increasingly incredulous schoolboys.