Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)
Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.
This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.
Friday, February 13, 2004
Thank goodness none of the kids got sick. It reminds me of the time that I had come home from Auburn for the quarter break. Long sort of drive, 2 1/2 hours, and hot, and tiring.
I got there while my mother was still at work, and I spied a two liter bottle of Sprite there beside the cabinet. In my haste to get something to drink, and because old drinking-out-of-the-container habits die hard (especially if you know your mom has NO WAY of catching you), I picked it up and took a big long gulping swig of...of...urpUUUrrrr...UHHHHGGGGurp something clear, but definitely not full of Limony fizz. It was horrid, and then I saw on the label in faded blue ballpoint ink, "Plant Food," lightly written in my mother's elegant handwriting.
AAAAHHHHH! I DRANK PLANT FOOD! AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!
After much dramatic heaving and dilution, I realized that I had to let Mom know, even if it meant admitting that I had been drinking out of the bottle.
I think, on some level, she kinda enjoyed that.
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