October 14, 2008
But I did have some amusing Girl Child things I wanted to share.
First, when the Viking Bride and I came home from dinner last week, we were met with the following from a new babysitter:
Babysitter: I told the Girl Child that she was quite a handful and she said to me, "I don't know how my mother handles me sometimes".
Second, I was home early on Wednesday last week and attended the last bit of the Girl Child's riding lesson. I was there long enough to grow concerned that she was not concentrating and then, boom, her pony threw her quite dramatically into a jump and she bounced off the poles and standards. Didn't even get dirty, as it turned out, since she didn't really hit the ground. It looked ugly and she was sitting there on the ground, crying. I let the instructors deal with it in the first instance. She sat there for a moment and then accepted a leg up back on to the pony and off they went to continue their jumps. Later, I asked her about the crying and why she stopped crying. This is what she told me:
Well, I couldn't figure out how to get back up on the pony and keep crying so I just stopped crying.
Tough kid.
Anyway, nice to dip a toe back in to the blog. No promises, but I sense the need for an expressive outlet again.
And who knows, maybe someone will still be reading?
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DD July 22, 2008
The Boy Child went off the diving board Saturday night in a backwards dive and smashed his face on the board. I took him to the emergency room for a 3 hour visit where the plastic surgeon put 3 layers of stiches in the deep cut (down to the muscle) on his chin (2 cm wide). He has to be kept fairly still for 2 weeks until the stitches come out -- no swimming or sports.
He was very brave. I was, perhaps, a bit less brave (but not so he noticed).
The real hero was the Girl Child, one mother who witnessed the incident recounted to me. She told me that while everyone froze, the Girl Child who was in the water immediately went to the Boy Child who himself was struggling to swim (and not really managing it) and propped him up as she propelled him to the side of the pool. I was so proud of her for coming to his rescue. This is what you hope your child will do but you cannot be sure until she is tested. The life guard pulled the Boy Child out but I am certain that the Girl Child materially contributed to the rescue.
It was a long weekend.
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June 20, 2008
The highlight on Saturday was the Boy Child’s last little league game of the season. This was, without question, his best game. He has turned into quite the little short stop. Our team (playing little kid rules of 3 innings and each time getting to basically bat the entire line up) recorded 8 outs against the other team for a season high number of outs. Of the 8, the BC personally recorded 6 of them. In the first inning alone, he cleanly fielded ground balls hit to him at short stop and threw the runners out at home in a force play with the bases loaded. It was the only time this year that we got out of an inning without the other team scoring against us. He was, as one of our other coaches said, a vacuum cleaner, just sucking up any ground ball hit to his side of the field. The reason he was able to do this was because when he is on the field, he has total focus and concentration on the game – unlike just about any other kid on the team. The BC got hits at each of his at bats, including a line drive one hop grounder that went off the shoulder of a fielder. He hit it so hard that play had to stop until the kid stopped crying and shook it off. The BC ran to first, exhibiting “nice wheels” as one of our coaches said. On the next play right after that, our batter grounded to second and the BC ran as fast as he could from first to second. Only, the second baseman was standing in the base path between the BC and the base. So, the BC wiped him out, dashing him to the ground and taking him out of the play. There followed from that an extended discussion between the BC, the second baseman (who was complaining about the rough treatment) and the coach of the other team. The BC explained: “He was in the way and I was afraid I was going to get out”. The coach agreed, telling his player that he had been standing in the base path and the BC had the right of way.
The change in the BC from the first game, where he waved pathetically at the ball with his bat, couldnÂ’t really throw, didnÂ’t know where to run, and had no idea how to field, was extraordinary. He was an absolute stand out. The boyÂ’s got game.
On Sunday, which was FatherÂ’s Day, I was up with the Girl Child and we were out of the house by 6:45 to drive down to Greenwich for her first away horse show. The show was held on the grounds of a very wealthy familyÂ’s estate in the backcountry of Greenwich. The GC was terribly worried the whole way down that her pony would misbehave. Her pony loves grass and cannot stop himself from grazing even under the most inappropriate of circumstances. The show was being held on a grass field. The GC, as it turned out, was right to be worried.
Her first event was Short Stirrup Equitation Walk Trot. The pony stopped in the middle of the event no fewer than eight times to graze on the tasty grass. The GC did not lose her composure. She just pulled his head back up and kept on going. She did get angry, though. She was at the trot in her half seat – a jumping position where her bottom is off the saddle and her hands are up by the horse’s mane – when the pony stopped short. She almost went over his head. This time she stood in her stirrups, yanked his head up forcefully with her left hand on the reins while, at the same time, smacking him in the face with her crop. It looked as painful as she looked determined and it sure got him moving again. I was standing with three of the senior riding instructors, watching, while the GC struggled with her pony. All three thought that the GC showed exceptional poise and composure. One of them said that any other child confronted with this situation would have been in tears in the middle of the ring long before the eighth stop. The other instructor, the most senior, said to me that the GC is the complete package – great skills and a tremendous attitude – that she isn’t missing anything. It was lovely praise. More than that, though, it was a wonderful Father’s Day present to watch the GC battle through and not lose her concentration or composure. Everyone agreed that the GC is one tough kid. I was thrilled.
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June 13, 2008
The Boy Child (aged 5 and going into kindergarten) told the Viking Bride:
When I grow up, Mamma, I want to be a client and have my office right across the street from Pappa.
Smart kid. Way better to be the client than the lawyer.
The Girl Child (aged 7 and heading to second grade), on the other hand, is showing that she has exactly what it takes to be a lawyer.
She came home from school on Monday and told me that another girl in her first grade class, a bully, cut in front of her on line. The Girl Child tapped the bully with her index finger and the bully went and told the teacher that the GC punched her.
I told the GC that she should go to school the next day and tell the bully: “You lied to the teacher about me. The next time, I am just going to punch you. That way when you get me in trouble, at least I will have done what you said”. Sort of a, if she’s got to do the time, she might as well do the crime, theory. Off she went to school and she reported back to me as follows:
GC: I saw the bully today and I told her, “You lied to the teacher about me”. And she said, “Well, you hurt me.”Me: So, what happened next?
GC: Pappa, the well explained everything. I didnÂ’t say anything else.
Me: What do you mean?
GC: The well explained THAT she lied and it explained WHY she lied.
Oh. Yeah, I kind of see that. The thing is, I donÂ’t think I could have seen that at age 7.
SheÂ’s going to make an excellent lawyer.* I wonder if the Boy Child will hire her. HeÂ’d be a fool not to.
*The thing is, though, she declared that her intention is to become a riding instructor – the most expensive riding instructor in the world. Perhaps in her spare time, she can still practice law.
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June 05, 2008
She was sitting at snack time with two other friends when one little girl said:
I hate my life; I wish I was dead. I want to kill myself.
The little girl in question is 7 years old and in first grade. Without trying to get too serious here, I questioned my daughter at some length and determine that this is about the 3rd time she has heard this little girl say this or something like this in the last month. The little girl, the daughter of immigrants from India, is unhappy because: her parents yell all the time; her parents regularly make her cry; and, her parents force her to spend all her time doing extracurricular homework that they create for her. No adult, according to my daughter, has overheard the little girl say these things.
I called the teacher and left a detailed message relating what I had learned from my daughter. I decided not to call the parents. I am not at all sure that this was the right decision, but, just the same, it was the decision I made. The school is well equipped with mental health types who will take this kind of thing very seriously and the threats or comments have all been made at school. Besides, I donÂ’t know the parents. Maybe this was not the right decision. I donÂ’t know.
I asked my daughter what she thought of all this and, bless her heart, she replied without hesitation:
I think it is just so stupid. I mean, if you hate your life: change it!. DonÂ’t kill yourself. You can grow up and move out if you are so unhappy.
It made my wife and me very sad to hear all this.
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May 28, 2008
Anyway, one night, we were having dinner outside at a barbecue joint called "Slow and Low". Pretty good, actually. Towards the end of the meal, the live music started. It was a singer with an acoustic guitar. He played some James Taylor and then he played some Jimmy Buffet. That prompted the Girl Child to want to ask him to play a song for her. So, she grabbed my hand and pulled me along for moral support. The song he was playing ended and she walked up to the singer:
GC: [Shyly peering up at him from under her too long bangs she quietly asks] Can you please play a song for me?Singer: [Into the Mic] This little lady has a request! What would you like me to play, miss?
GC: Can you play me a Jimmy Buffet song?
Singer: Sure! What do you want to hear?
GC: Can you play, My head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love Jesus?
Singer: Errr, [long pause] I don't know that one. I've heard it but I don't know it. How about I play, Son of a Sailor?
GC: Ok. Sure, if you don't know the other one.
GC: [As we walk back to our seats} Pappa, that really wasn't the song I wanted to hear, you know.
I'm sorry I cannot describe the look on the singer's face when he heard her request. No way he saw that one coming.
No way for him to know that the Girl Child thinks of herself as a Parrot Head. No way at all.
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The program lasted for an hour. We (I was there with my parents) had the worst seats in the house, all the way in the farthest most back row. The music was lovely and the children performed terrifically. The BC was seated on the stage the entire time, in the front row by the left side. The GC came on stage with the other beginning violinists towards the end. I suppose it was easier to make the little violinists walk in with their much smaller instruments than it was to make the cellists come in with their stools and straps and big cellos. The BC behaved impeccably during the concert. He didn’t drop his bow on the stage once, unlike some of the other kids. He was scheduled to play at the last song of the program – some twinkle variations.
The GC was on stage and playing and we were about three songs from the end when the BC did something quite strange. He put his cello down and stood up. He looked around for a moment and then walked over the stairs and descended into the audience where he then began to march up the aisle of the concert hall. He was on the other side of the hall from me. The Viking Bride was a chaperone and was backstage so really didnÂ’t see any of this. I jumped out of my seat, ran around the outside of the hall and met him at the door on his side.
Me: BC! Are you ok? What are you doing?BC: I have to go to the potty really bad.
Me: BC, we are one song away from your song. YouÂ’re going to miss the whole thing if you go to the potty! Can you hold it?
BC: [Bites back a sob] IÂ’ll try.
Me: Good for you! LetÂ’s hurry and get you back!
We walk very quickly halfway down the aisle and I stop to let him continue by himself.
He mounts the stage as the second to last piece is coming to an end.
Avery Fisher Hall erupts in applause as the BC takes the stage and picks his cello back up. Everyone clapped for him.
They launch right in to the last piece and he plays his cello with tremendous gusto. He gets up, bows, and exits.
The GC, by the way, was sick going in and did not want to play. But she got out there and played her best, even though, as she confided in me later on the way home, she was not able to make her violin sing.
And so the concert ends.
I was so proud of them both.
And yes, the BC made it to the potty in time. Or so he said.
While waiting for them to all come out of the stage door on 65th Street, one of the mothers told me
When he got back on the stage, at the end, and everyone applauded: I cried.
I didnÂ’t cry. But I did stand in the middle of the aisle, in the middle of Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center, bursting with pride and pleasure as I watched as my son mounted the stage to thunderous applause and played his very big heart out.
I wasnÂ’t sure what to expect last night but I certainly didnÂ’t expect that. It was a heck of a show.
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May 06, 2008
Boom. I was blown away. I looked at this little creature and said, "My sweet, Pappa is going to buy you a horse!"
Well, I should have been more careful. I have not bought her a horse. No, I have leased her a pony. A lovely little strawberry-roan pony who jumps like a big guy and who eats while we sleep (which is expensive). The Girl Child thought it was a strawberry-ROME, by the way, but I felt I had to correct that cute little misunderstanding.
So, we have acquired a pony. It is, if you were wondering, expensive to lease a good pony for a year. Thousands of dollars expensive. But that's ok, I don't think that she'll miss much by not going to college.
We have also, by the way, acquired a tack box to keep her boots and hat and gloves and chaps and half chaps and crop and grooming stuff and spurs and it keeps on going and going. This box was a gift from her riding instructor who just got a new tack box. She gave her old tack box, a gift to her from her mother when she was young, to the Girl Child. It has, as you might think, huge sentimental value and we are really touched.
So, if you see me at a horse show and I have a sort of pinched expression on my face, that's because I now lease a pony.
I never should have said anything when she was 6 months old. A lesson to you all, I expect.
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May 02, 2008
I berated the Girl Child (age 7) for some poor behavior this morning, and she stalked off, sulky & sad. She must have confided in / complained to her brother (age 5), because I hear the dulcet tones of his gentle voice wafting over from the sun room
Girl Child, I'm tired of sticking up for you. I'm SICK of yelling at Mamma!
Brilliant.
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April 25, 2008
At the conclusion of practice, which I tried my best to make as fun as possible, I formed a prediction of what our first game will be like. Here's what I see happening. We have a runner on 1st and 3rd. Our batter makes contact. Every single player on the other team, including the first baseman, goes for the ball. Our batter makes it easily to first. Our runner on 1st runs across the diamond to go straight to third. Our runner on 3rd runs back to 2nd where he finds a flower he wants to pick to give to his mother later. Bases will be loaded and the coaches will be hiding behind the backstop so no one can see us laughing.
Thanks for the comments yesterday, y'all, I had no idea anyone still knew this poor neglected blog was still here.
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March 11, 2008
It is expensive. One year is more than one year of undergraduate university cost me some (*sob*) 18 years ago. One year is one thing but we will be buying twelve years of this. And, of course, our inclination would be to unite the children at the same school so that the Girl Child might go there, too. Her chances of acceptance, by the way, will go way up if she is a sibling of a current student.
The public schools in our town are very good, for sure. Most people, us included, move to this town for the schools. So, are we crazy to be contemplating this?
The college acceptance list for this charming, beautiful little school is un-freaking-real. I was astonished by their reach at the top of the top of the top universities in the country.
I don't know. I am a big believer in independent education. I prefer it, truthfully.
I look forward to the extended conversation my wife and I are going to have tonight, that is for certain. It ought to be interesting. We will have that conversation in the car in the way home from the City after a Scotch Whisky Tasting Dinner. I will endeavor to restrain myself.
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March 10, 2008
Anyway, while I was putting the lass to bed on Monday night, we had the following exchange:
Me: Did you lie to anyone today?GC: I have no recollection.
When I was seven, I doubt I even knew the word recollection, much less how to use it in a sentence.
Upon further probing the matter, she told me that she didn't think that she had lied that day. Still, I am regularly surprised when I have to cross examine my daughter as if she were a witness.
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February 21, 2008
Mamma? I don't feel so BLACH SPLASH!
And just like that, there I am, wiping vomit off the rug in my bedroom.
A lovely way to wake up and the poor Boy Child was sick all day on Monday.
On Tuesday, I went off to work quite merrily.
I felt unwell on the train ride in.
I left early and was home in bed, teeth chattering, by 12:30 where I slept until at least 4:00 in the afternoon.
The Viking Bride was then struck down.
We both sat in the den -- her supine on the sofa and me reclining in a chair -- while the two oldest kids supervised the baby.
The Girl Child cleaned the baby's mouth and hands after his dinner and got him out of his booster seat. The GC and the BC then traded off watching over him. At one point, the GC ran upstairs for a moment and I heard the BC say the following to the baby:
Ok, Baby, can you be super, extra good for me? The GC had to go upstairs and this is the first time I am watching you all by myself and it is very hard work.
The GC and the BC then discussed, in detail, how they were going to hoist the baby up into his crib to put him to bed (it already having been agreed between them that the GC was going to read the good night story to the BC and put him to bed) if neither the Viking Bride nor myself could do it. The BC remembered that the front of the crib came down so they felt comfortable getting that down and boosting him into the crib.
While they felt they had it under control, I just the same summoned the energy to get the baby changed, read to, and put to bed without their kind offers of assistance. They still had to brush their own teeth and the GC still performed story reading duties.
The next day (yesterday) dawned somewhat better for me but the Viking Bride was still weak as a kitten. I had to go to work to take a conference call on a really important deal -- not changing the face of Western Society as we know it important but still pretty significant for my client just the same.
I took a 12:07 train home, stopped off to get some soup and other easy to digest foods, and let the Viking Bride go to bed. The baby and the BC both got up from their naps on the very early side and I took all the kids to the library. We took out a Warner Bros. cartoon video and a copy of the Magic Flute (yes, the Mozart opera) to watch while we were sick (or, while the wife and I were sick). We also got a bunch of books, including 5 firetruck books for the BC.
It actually turned into a great day. After dinner, the BC and the GC practiced their instruments and we watched cartoons. Good cartoons. Funny cartoons. Not the crappy stuff that tries to pass for cartoons today with their pious multi-cultural messages and . . . well, I have written about that before.
The kids were in bed by 7:30. The Viking Bride and I were in bed by 8:30.
I managed, somehow, to get my ass on the squash court this morning for my weekly torture session with a former Division I athlete. Happily, he was recovering from a flu, too. We played ok and I did not vomit on the court, although I did have to pass on pilates this morning. That was simply even more unwise than playing squash, if you can believe it.
Anyway, here we are. Back at work. Almost at full strength.
I trust you all have been well this week?
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February 11, 2008
The Boy Child took part in the Cello Master Class this weekend at his music school. He played with his group from 9-10 and the entire cello student body played from 1:30 to 2:30. The teacher during the morning class asked the Boy Child how old he was and he replied: “four and 11/12ths”. So cute. The Boy Child was in the lowest level for the big class. He was adorable, by the way, dressed in his bow tie and blue button down shirt (which I didn’t even bother trying to tuck in), with his blond hair falling over his forehead as he bent over his cello in great concentration. At one point in the big class, held in the small auditorium with all the parents in attendance, the teacher asked if the class knew the French folk song composition and the Boy Child raised his hand. At that point, the boy behind him, a bratty little know it all, shouted at the Boy Child that he did not know the song. The Boy Child did know the song, in his mind, but did not know how to play it, you see. Anyway, the room went silent with everyone turning to look at the two and the Boy Child turned around and replied that he did too know it and the kid yelled back at him again, in a very nasty tone. The Boy Child turned again and exclaimed, heatedly: “You have never been in my class you so don’t know what I know or what I don’t know.” And that was that. The brat resigned the field. I was pleased that he stuck up for himself and did it so well – something I might have thought was beyond him.
We stayed after class for the Master Concert – a pillow concert lasting an hour, with four cellists playing. Afterwards, he ran around and played. And got into a fist fight. That’s right, my gentle little son went toe to toe with an 8 year old and traded blows until a teacher broke it up. The older kid hit the Boy Child first and the Boy Child hit back. The Boy Child came up to me after and was about to start to cry when he saw me and I told him that he better not cry, that I did not want to see him cry, that he had to suck it up and hold it in and not give the older kid, a bully, the satisfaction of seeing him cry. And he did, too. He bit it back and stood up and did not cry. I told him that while I was proud of him, he did not do a very good job of fighting and I was going to teach him how to fight when we got home. He continued, by the way, to make remarks to the other kid until we left. The spirit, you see, was not touched. He was excited to go home, he told me, and learn how to fight.
We got home and we began the lesson. I told him that the problem was that he hit this other kid, who we will call the “bully”, because he was angry and because he wanted the bully to know he was angry. This was wrong. If you are only angry, you use words, you don’t need a fist. If you need to hit someone, you have to do it to hurt and not just because you are angry. So, we spent a half an hour learning how to throw a short jab into the face. A short punch, starting from the shoulder and snapping it into the face with the intention of punching through the target. One of those to the nose will end any fight and eliminate the possibility of the Boy Child ever being picked on again.
The Girl Child participated in the lesson, too, by the way. She wanted to work on her fighting. The bully was lucky, quite lucky, that she did not see him punch her brother because she would have clocked the other kid. That is how she has been raised. The bullyÂ’s most regular source of exercise appears to be pushing a bow across the cello strings and pushing around his younger sister. The Girl Child has gotten to be one solid piece of muscle from her riding and if she had hit this kid, he would have collapsed like a cheap paper bag. No question. I am sure from this just from seeing how her wrists and hands have gotten stronger from the riding, not to mention her core. She is one tough cookie. And yes, she certainly can throw a punch.
Anyway, I told the Boy Child that I was so very proud of him and asked him if he knew why. He asked me: “Because I stucked up for myself?” Exactly. I have tried to teach him and his sister to stick up for themselves and each other but when push comes to shove, as it did, only they can make those decisions. I can teach them how to do it better, how to make a fist and throw a solid fight-ending punch, but I am so glad that I don’t have to try to teach them now not to be a victim for some bully.
His application to this private school was waitlisted. We found out on Saturday. I no longer think it makes a difference whether he goes to the very sweet, very supportive, small private school or whether he goes into the local public school. HeÂ’s going to be fine wherever he goes. He can stick up for himself, both orally and physically, and he is going to take that self-confidence with him into any situation; heÂ’s earned it himself. He didnÂ’t give up and he didnÂ’t let the bully see him cry. You may not agree with me about the morality of teaching a not quite five year old how to bloody another childÂ’s nose (and you can be sure he has learned that and we will continue to practice how to do it), but I trust you will agree that it is entirely wonderful that he values himself enough not to allow another impose on him, no matter what the size or age or strength difference.
So, yeah, I was proud because he stucked up for himself. He got it exactly right.
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February 07, 2008
I am more than a little bit in awe of this little girl.
I was less awed by how she managed to throw up three times last night. I am hoping for less throwing up and more sleep tonight. Much more sleep.
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January 02, 2008
I was putting the Girl Child to bed last night and she and I had the following exchange:
Me: Now that you are about to turn 7, your mother and I think it might be the right time to start giving you an allowance.Her: [Very excited] Great! What can I start doing around the house?
Me: Well, we haven't decided yet but I think you could start by making your bed every day.
Her: I could do that [tone: earnest] but it would really chew into my time.
I had to leave the room when she said that so she wouldn't see me laugh.
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December 24, 2007
Then I took her to the doctor. The doctor said that the left ear was an example of the worst ear infection she had seen in two weeks and the right ear was the worst she had seen all day. She was shocked that the Girl Child was not totally incapacitated. She was stunned to hear that the Girl Child had actually ridden in a horse show. She then turned to me and said, quietly, that if pus starts to come out of the Girl ChildÂ’s left ear that I should call her back because they will need to prescribe some special ear drops.
What, might you ask, were the Girl ChildÂ’s concerns? Whether she could still go sledding with her friends that afternoon and whether sheÂ’d be able to take her regular riding lesson on Sunday. No to the sledding and yes to the riding.
This is one tough kid.
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December 18, 2007
You will be pleased to know that the Viking Bride has been doing her part to help the GC learn about other cultures. The GC learned a new song about Santa Lucia. When she got to school, my not quite 7 year old daughter got up in front of her 1st grade class and informed them that she had learned a new Santa Lucia song from her mother and did they want her to sing it to them all in Norwegian? They did.
The song, which the Girl Child belted out, she then went on to translate.
It goes something like this, according to the Girl Child:
Santa Lucia went into the woods to poop. When she was finished, it smelled wicked bad.
You cannot say we are not doing our part for multi-cultural understanding!
Her classmates were amused although I gather her teacher was not quite as amused.
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November 09, 2007
"So, poor GC had a tough day today... She seemed a little upset, but physically ok. The horse was FRESH! I chased him before the lesson (to get the bugs out) and apparently that wasn't enough, so I had a big kid get on him and haul him around, but he figured the GC out and got her off twice! But I have to say, I explained specifically what to do, and told her to get mad at him and be tough and she did, she is a tough little kid and she totally listened to me and did what I said and she stayed on every time he tried after that. I just wanted to let you know what happened. Let me know how she is feeling tomorrow."
What she doesn't mention is that the GC got back on the horse, after getting the wind knocked out of her, and successfully cantered that same horse and jumped him, too. Pretty gutsy.
But she was upset on Thursday morning. She didn't want to go to school. So, I told my wife to please buy a cake so we could have a small celebration last night, to celebrate her first fall, which we did. We told the GC how proud we were of her for finally falling and for getting right back up. We told her that she was officially a rider now.
Later, I asked her why she didn't want to go to school and this is the conversation we had:
GC: Because I was afraid I was going to get teased for falling off the horse.Me: By whom?
GC: People.
Me: That is a ridiculous answer. Who else could tease you, chairs? That tells me nothing. Of course it would be people. Which people?
GC: I don't know. Just people.
Me: Well, do these un-named people ride?
GC: No.
Me: So, they are not entitled to have an opinion are they?
GC: What do you mean?
Me: Well, if they can't ride, how do they know anything about what it means to fall off a horse.
GC: Oh. Yeah.
Me: In fact, if any of them does tease you, you can say: "Do you ride? No? Well, if I need an opinion about riding I will go ask someone who rides. If I need an opinion from a doofus, I will come right back to you."
GC: [Laughing] I can call them a doofus?
Me: You bet. Now, did anyone tease you today?
GC: Nope.
I thought my wife was going to smack me for this but she actually told me that she thought I handled that pretty well. I worry that her staying home full time is destroying her judgment.
I am curious to see how things go at the next riding lesson, on Sunday.
Posted by: Random Penseur at
02:50 PM
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Post contains 511 words, total size 3 kb.
October 16, 2007
Yup. That's all. Everything that comes between is just filler.
Posted by: Random Penseur at
04:04 PM
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Post contains 63 words, total size 1 kb.
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