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January 6, 2002 Why is it that the Christmas tree looks so much better in the dark than in the light? And better in person than in a picture?
I was so excited about our tree this year. And now, looking at this picture, it looks like...I don't know, like it's covered in baggy underwear or something. The tree, by the way, is NOT REAL. We will NEVER HAVE a real tree in our house, because it's so ingrained in me that REAL TREES=A TICKET TO A FIERY DEATH. Other ways to invite flames and sorrow into your life, taught to me by my father, a captain in the Chicago Fire Department, include:
It's not just images of grisly death that my dad took home with him after each shift. He also introduced to us such rules as If Someone At the Dinner Table Asks You To Pass Something, You May Not Use It First. If you were to ignore this rule at the fire house, what would happen to you? Your Plate Would Be Taken Away. (or it would be Turned Over--these consequences were interchangeable. Both meant you would not get to finish your dinner.) In other news, Andy and I have succumbed to the nonsense of baby talk. Not just succumbed. We've EMBRACED the baby talk. We are two old pros, nattering away at Quinn using words and phrases we would have probably snorted at derisively a few months ago. Take this little quiz to see if you can decipher our vocabulary.
Highlight the line below to see the answers: Start highlighting here---1.e---2.i---3.e---4.f---5.b---6.h---7.c---8.g---9.d---10.j And on that <revolting, stomach-turning> note, I have to go do
#2. OH MY GOD. Number two from the QUIZ...jeez...you people are sick.
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