04/19/2004
15 PIECES OF ADVICE TO BE PASSED ON TO YOUR DAUGHTERS
1. Don't imagine you can change a man -- unless he's in \diapers.
2. What do you do if your boyfriend walks-out? You shut the door.
3. If they can put a man on the moon -- they should be able to put them
all up there.
4. Never let your man's mind wander-- it's too little to be out alone.
5. Go for younger men. You might as well -- they never mature anyway.
6. Men are all the same -- they just have different faces so that you
can tell them apart.
7. Definition of a bachelor; a man who has missed the opportunity to
make some woman miserable.
8. Women don't make fools of men -- most of them are the do-it-yourself
types.
9. Best way to get a man to do something, is to suggest he is too old
for it.
10. Love is blind, but marriage is a real eye-opener.
11. If you want a committed man, look in a mental hospital.
12. The children of Israel wandered around the desert for 40 years. Even
in biblical times, men wouldn't ask for directions.
13. If he asks what sort of books you're interested in, tell him checkbooks.
14. Remember a sense of humor does not mean that you tell him jokes; it
means that you laugh at his.
15. Sadly, all men are created equal.
++++++
Yes, Kaitlyn, the above is one of those ubiquitous email missives that float the Internet to the complete amusement of, well, of the entire world.
It is, Kaitlyn, funny. And throughout the humorous verbiage, there is, as always in the mirth, solid nuggets of truth.
Your grandmother, Kaitlyn, has “had” plenty of men in her life. Depending on your age, you may interpret the word “had” in any fashion that you desire. For now, the statistics show that grandmother has been married four times and that’s enough right there.
In some later chapter I shall go into more detail about my many marriages and reasons forthwith. I suspect you’ll discover the tale not as sinister as one might imagine.
So go with me on this, Kaitlyn, your grandmother knows men.
Oddly, I still like them.
A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle. No, wait. THAT was the hahahaha funny logo during my hay day as a Woman’s Libber.
Indeed, Kaitlyn, grandmother once sported a kelly green hat and “marched” on Washington the day Ronald Reagan got inaugurated as President of the United States of America.
Actually the marchers only included me and another ersatz liberated woman. And the only marching we did was to wonder around the capitol while lugging two five gallon buckets which we used to stand on when we wanted to see what was going on at street level. Beats me, Kaitlyn, but the call went out for women across America to emerge en masse in the nation’s capital that day. We were to wear green for some reason I forget and in theory, the massive columns of green dressed females along the new President’s inaugural route was supposed to show this guy that we were a force to be reckoned with.
So only me and the other lady show up but we had fun anyway.
But such was your grandmother’s youthful passion for the social tide of the era-that of feminine liberation.
There was a period of time in my life that I hated men. Granted that “hated” is a strong word and likely not really the case. Yet I distinctly recall a resentment of men, their power to hurt innocent women, their male chauvinism. A term, Kaitlyn, that was wildly popular during the era.
Beyond equal pay for equal work there really was no great pressing issue to women’s liberation. Indeed the entire nation rejected the notion of another amendment to the constitution granting women something called “full equality” when women already had full equality under the law in the Civil Rights act.
I suppose there was a subtle change in public opinion on the role of women and their place in society. It was then, and still is, a society where the vast majority of women worked outside the home. Thus they should receive equal pay for equal work, shouldn’t be yoked with the oppression of all things domestic in their dual roles, and should not be punished for the medical condition of pregnancy.
In fact, Kaitlyn, mighty AT&T denied me pay for the birth of my child, who would be your mother. When the guy down the aisle got six week’s pay per the company’s disability plan for his pulled groin muscle. I took off five weeks to birth my child and recover from same. Why shouldn’t I be paid for this as with any other disability?
I was eventually paid for that five weeks Kaitlyn, via a class action suit that took sixteen years to settle as that was the age of the “baby” that was the reason for the suit.
I was a liberal then, Kaitlyn, and my arguments above might roughly make the case for that era of more liberal thought. For now, I’m over that man thing.
Because a woman who has been married four times quite obviously WANTS to be married, Kaitlyn. For some it takes a bit of fine tuning is all.
Tuesday
Saturday
It's BAAAAAACK!
04/12/2004 6:16 PM
It’s Baaaaaaack!
Spring is like Christmas to your aging Grandma, Kaitlyn. Yet each year when it arrives I am always surprised and wanting to tell all the growing activity to STOP, wait, STOP, I’m not ready.
Though I’m not sure just how I would ever be ready or what preparations I should have taken that I urgently feel I forgot.
Every once in a while in early March I walk by the waking gardens and peer down to see what might be growing. I see the leaves of the daffodils peeking up through the ground and smile. Mentally I note “daffodils growing, two weeks until bloom” but the notation never makes my “todo” list.
The same with the pansies budding all about and ready to provide happy faces in the early spring garden in the chill air these flowers love. I note the pansies are ready on my mental list, then move on.
The peonies are waving fringy leaves all around the March wind and I make yet another mental note. The Autumn Joy is growing round and promising, the hostas raise variegated arms and the hedge roses turn green then dull red with promise of bloom.
A week or so later I might chance to be tooling about in the car and see the forsythia waving yellow limbs as my car passes them by and I begin panic.
NO, wait, my mind says, I’m not ready.
Finally the daffodils bloom all over the place, including a handsome stand in the center lawn garden. The pansies smile their blooms right alongside and the early spring garden is a sweet display. I want them to stop, stop right there. Stop and give me an hour or so to look at it all. But my daily life yields no hours to gaze at the daffodils and pansies and I know that likely I’d never spend hours just watching flowers.
So I see the lovely sight from the corner of my busy eye as I scamper to and fro and I feel guilty. Sometimes I steal a peek outside the bedroom window and the pretty daffodils wave back.
Every drive to somewhere reveals something else in magnificent bloom and I want to shout again. The magnolia tree sports a crown of blushing pink tulip-like blooms. The pears and cherries and crab apples wave their blooms around the air and I want them to STOP, stop right now. Stop until I have the time to properly enjoy them.
Each day the world turns greener and I feel as if nature is on fast-forward.
I am always amazed when spring comes again, Kaitlyn. Such a simple, perhaps even silly, surprise for a woman my age. But of course, spring will come again. It always has.
This is my first full year with the gardens in my new home, Kaitlyn. Already I’ve formed several garden areas from the once vast green front yard. I’ve transplanted the flowers that I thought would do nicely from my old home. Hence the hedge roses are robust with mature roots grown in Critter Cove. Someday I will tell you about Critter Cove, Kaitlyn. For now know that it was the fond name for my old house in the taxing state of Merryland.
The Iris are all happy here in Delaware, as are a few Autumn Joy and my beloved Stargazer lilies. All transplants from Merryland. I did this past Fall plant a few plantings along the front yard fence line but I note this early spring that do not appear to have done very well.
It’s a whole new gardening eco-system for me, Kaitlyn. Once I struggled to produce bloom on a very shady and sloped lot. Now I have many feet of sun, glorious sun, sun that loves the roses I could never grow in Critter Cove. The lot is straight and flat. The canvas is blank.
And just I did in Critter Cove, I will have to go through a learning curve. What will grow here, what would look nice there, what sort of fence would effectively protect against errant dog while not hiding the flowering perennial bloom to come.
I’m looking forward to the experience, Kaitlyn, and will keep you updated.
It’s Baaaaaaack!
Spring is like Christmas to your aging Grandma, Kaitlyn. Yet each year when it arrives I am always surprised and wanting to tell all the growing activity to STOP, wait, STOP, I’m not ready.
Though I’m not sure just how I would ever be ready or what preparations I should have taken that I urgently feel I forgot.
Every once in a while in early March I walk by the waking gardens and peer down to see what might be growing. I see the leaves of the daffodils peeking up through the ground and smile. Mentally I note “daffodils growing, two weeks until bloom” but the notation never makes my “todo” list.
The same with the pansies budding all about and ready to provide happy faces in the early spring garden in the chill air these flowers love. I note the pansies are ready on my mental list, then move on.
The peonies are waving fringy leaves all around the March wind and I make yet another mental note. The Autumn Joy is growing round and promising, the hostas raise variegated arms and the hedge roses turn green then dull red with promise of bloom.
A week or so later I might chance to be tooling about in the car and see the forsythia waving yellow limbs as my car passes them by and I begin panic.
NO, wait, my mind says, I’m not ready.
Finally the daffodils bloom all over the place, including a handsome stand in the center lawn garden. The pansies smile their blooms right alongside and the early spring garden is a sweet display. I want them to stop, stop right there. Stop and give me an hour or so to look at it all. But my daily life yields no hours to gaze at the daffodils and pansies and I know that likely I’d never spend hours just watching flowers.
So I see the lovely sight from the corner of my busy eye as I scamper to and fro and I feel guilty. Sometimes I steal a peek outside the bedroom window and the pretty daffodils wave back.
Every drive to somewhere reveals something else in magnificent bloom and I want to shout again. The magnolia tree sports a crown of blushing pink tulip-like blooms. The pears and cherries and crab apples wave their blooms around the air and I want them to STOP, stop right now. Stop until I have the time to properly enjoy them.
Each day the world turns greener and I feel as if nature is on fast-forward.
I am always amazed when spring comes again, Kaitlyn. Such a simple, perhaps even silly, surprise for a woman my age. But of course, spring will come again. It always has.
This is my first full year with the gardens in my new home, Kaitlyn. Already I’ve formed several garden areas from the once vast green front yard. I’ve transplanted the flowers that I thought would do nicely from my old home. Hence the hedge roses are robust with mature roots grown in Critter Cove. Someday I will tell you about Critter Cove, Kaitlyn. For now know that it was the fond name for my old house in the taxing state of Merryland.
The Iris are all happy here in Delaware, as are a few Autumn Joy and my beloved Stargazer lilies. All transplants from Merryland. I did this past Fall plant a few plantings along the front yard fence line but I note this early spring that do not appear to have done very well.
It’s a whole new gardening eco-system for me, Kaitlyn. Once I struggled to produce bloom on a very shady and sloped lot. Now I have many feet of sun, glorious sun, sun that loves the roses I could never grow in Critter Cove. The lot is straight and flat. The canvas is blank.
And just I did in Critter Cove, I will have to go through a learning curve. What will grow here, what would look nice there, what sort of fence would effectively protect against errant dog while not hiding the flowering perennial bloom to come.
I’m looking forward to the experience, Kaitlyn, and will keep you updated.
Monday
The Fine Art of Cooking
4/4/04
The Fine Art of Cooking
‘Tis the time when a serious grandmother begins to share her worldly wisdom with granddaughters who might benefit from lessons learned the hard way.
I’ve never been much of a cook, Kaitlyn. This is not to say I’ve been a bad cook or that I never cooked. I’ve cooked all my life and for many husbands, stepchildren and other family of various tastes and hungers.
There was never a lot of creativity in the meals and very little planning as well. Most of what I’ve learned about cooking has been in the past five years before the date of this entry. And this at a time when I am cooking for mostly two people which would be my husband and myself.
Three points about the art of cooking, Kaitlyn, and we shall move on to a list of hints and time-savers I compiled on the fly for this entry. There shall more in the future I am sure.
First point, Kaitlyn, consider cooking all at once. The “all at once” can be defined in many manners, to include doubling a recipe for freezing one while eating the other, to preparing all of the meals to be consumed during any week in one cooking session.
Which is something I like to do on Sundays, Kaitlyn, but that’s just me. The notion is that cooking is a much more efficient activity when pots are dirtied all at once, when all chopping and cutting is done all at once, when the oven is ran just once a week.
For many this isn’t practical and this is understandable. For just as many I’d argue it’s more possible than their creativity might allow.
Point two, consider your and whoever else you might be cooking for taste preferences. When I was a younger woman, Kaitlyn, I always assumed that in order for any food product to be good it has to involve a lot of work for the cook. So I perused recipes with an eye to time and complication, sure that the result would be delicious due to the effort of preparation.
Is that stupid or what?
Peruse recipes for the ingredients, cooking methods and textures that you like, Kaitlyn. In my mature years I have ascertained what I like and as a result I spend less time in the waste of cooking a recipe doomed to not please.
I like foods that involve sweet and sour types of taste combinations. I like foods with a crisp texture. I intensely dislike the spice curry.
That’s just a synopsis, of course. But I know it now and had I did this simple mental inventory ages ago I would have save a lot of calories and wasted time.
Below Kaitlyn, is a list of things I’ve learned about cooking, in no particular order and compiled in no special manner:
…Fried foods do not store well. If planning a menu that can be prepared ahead of time, stick with meats with sauces. Or plan on frying up foods the same day.
…if cakes or cookies get somewhat dry or a bit stale, try covering them in a tight container for a day or so and see if they don’t get a tad moister.
…a dusting of corn starch makes fried foods brown real nice. I don’t know why.
…cooked noodles, Kaitlyn, will “drink” up sauce like thirsty plants. As much as possible, serve any sauce to go on noodles to the side.
…ramen noodles mixed with dog food or cheap hot dogs will stretch dog food to twice the life.
…of all the foods in the world that return the least eating value for the effort in the preparation, pie crust wins my vote. Butter that must be cold, ice cubes, proper kneading. Pshaw. Flaky pie crust might be nice but the prepared stuff works just as well given an outstanding filling.
….if you could only have one appliance, Kaitlyn, make it a good and sturdy mixer.
…electric stoves are easier to cook on than gas ones. Pay no attention to what anyone else should tell you, Kaitlyn. Your grandmother speaks only truth.
…I don’t know why iced tea gets cloudy and I don’t care how many well-meaning kitchen gurus say it doesn’t affect the taste, I don’t like the looks of it and wished I knew how to avoid it.
The Fine Art of Cooking
‘Tis the time when a serious grandmother begins to share her worldly wisdom with granddaughters who might benefit from lessons learned the hard way.
I’ve never been much of a cook, Kaitlyn. This is not to say I’ve been a bad cook or that I never cooked. I’ve cooked all my life and for many husbands, stepchildren and other family of various tastes and hungers.
There was never a lot of creativity in the meals and very little planning as well. Most of what I’ve learned about cooking has been in the past five years before the date of this entry. And this at a time when I am cooking for mostly two people which would be my husband and myself.
Three points about the art of cooking, Kaitlyn, and we shall move on to a list of hints and time-savers I compiled on the fly for this entry. There shall more in the future I am sure.
First point, Kaitlyn, consider cooking all at once. The “all at once” can be defined in many manners, to include doubling a recipe for freezing one while eating the other, to preparing all of the meals to be consumed during any week in one cooking session.
Which is something I like to do on Sundays, Kaitlyn, but that’s just me. The notion is that cooking is a much more efficient activity when pots are dirtied all at once, when all chopping and cutting is done all at once, when the oven is ran just once a week.
For many this isn’t practical and this is understandable. For just as many I’d argue it’s more possible than their creativity might allow.
Point two, consider your and whoever else you might be cooking for taste preferences. When I was a younger woman, Kaitlyn, I always assumed that in order for any food product to be good it has to involve a lot of work for the cook. So I perused recipes with an eye to time and complication, sure that the result would be delicious due to the effort of preparation.
Is that stupid or what?
Peruse recipes for the ingredients, cooking methods and textures that you like, Kaitlyn. In my mature years I have ascertained what I like and as a result I spend less time in the waste of cooking a recipe doomed to not please.
I like foods that involve sweet and sour types of taste combinations. I like foods with a crisp texture. I intensely dislike the spice curry.
That’s just a synopsis, of course. But I know it now and had I did this simple mental inventory ages ago I would have save a lot of calories and wasted time.
Below Kaitlyn, is a list of things I’ve learned about cooking, in no particular order and compiled in no special manner:
…Fried foods do not store well. If planning a menu that can be prepared ahead of time, stick with meats with sauces. Or plan on frying up foods the same day.
…if cakes or cookies get somewhat dry or a bit stale, try covering them in a tight container for a day or so and see if they don’t get a tad moister.
…a dusting of corn starch makes fried foods brown real nice. I don’t know why.
…cooked noodles, Kaitlyn, will “drink” up sauce like thirsty plants. As much as possible, serve any sauce to go on noodles to the side.
…ramen noodles mixed with dog food or cheap hot dogs will stretch dog food to twice the life.
…of all the foods in the world that return the least eating value for the effort in the preparation, pie crust wins my vote. Butter that must be cold, ice cubes, proper kneading. Pshaw. Flaky pie crust might be nice but the prepared stuff works just as well given an outstanding filling.
….if you could only have one appliance, Kaitlyn, make it a good and sturdy mixer.
…electric stoves are easier to cook on than gas ones. Pay no attention to what anyone else should tell you, Kaitlyn. Your grandmother speaks only truth.
…I don’t know why iced tea gets cloudy and I don’t care how many well-meaning kitchen gurus say it doesn’t affect the taste, I don’t like the looks of it and wished I knew how to avoid it.
Thursday
Kaitlyn Rolls Over
03/31/2004
Kaitlyn Rolls Over
And so your Mom tells me, Kaitlyn, that you have rolled over. This at almost four months of age. You can roll over “both” ways as your Mom describes it and my mind took ages to configure this concept.
Evidently, Kaitlyn, babies can roll from their stomach to their back, or from their back to their stomach. If I understand this correctly, the roll from back to stomach is a bit more difficult in that there is no curved sort of belly surface to make such a maneuver easier. When baby is on stomach, that mere act of moving strongly in one direction makes rolling over from stomach to back easier as the chubby belly acts as a pivot.
Which is quite enough physics for this grandmother to grapple.
I did have a baby but can recall no major benchmarks. Though I must assume that life’s mile markers were reached and surpassed by this former baby in that she can now walk, talk, and no longer wets the bed.
Your mother, Kaitlyn, has the Internet to guide her through motherhood at each and every phase.
Our I-messages are peppered with expert quotes from child-rearing web sites as to the proper age for a baby to be rolling over. Which would be, Kaitlyn, an age of four to six months.
You would seem to be rolling all over your parents’ floor as if a baby bowling ball approximately one week before your time.
I must say I’m impressed.
Understand, Kaitlyn, that at some point my baby rolled all around as I do recall one incident when she rolled clear off the bed and banged her head on the floor with a boo-boo.
She might have been ahead of her time as well but, alas, I had no web sites to guide me.
Your Mom tells me that while rolling over has brought great joy to your little life, you are now frustrated because laying around on one’s belly, forced to lift that heavy head in order to view the world, was a bit boring. In time you have to be turned over by your mother.
“She wants to crawl,” your mother informs me.
An action not normally mastered by babies until 6 months to 8 months of age. Your mother told me this fact as well. Obtained from the Gerber Baby well baby web site.
Though I must agree, Kaitlyn, that you probably do want to crawl because I don’t ever recall an infant that if sheer force of will was all powerful would be walking on air across the room.
I was holding you in my lap, sort of sitting you up with your front away from mine. Your mother was opposite me, her face towards us. Suddenly you realized the person holding you was not your mother as right there in front of your sweet baby face was your very own mother who held no baby in her lap.
The four month old Kaitlyn then began grunting and thrusting her torso in some attempt of forward movement. Your infant mind hadn’t quite developed the precise physics of forward motion but your instincts told you it required some energetic type actions by your body.
I had to hold you down as if an errant puppy, Kaitlyn, so determined were you to eject yourself from my lap, into the air and across the space span into your mother’s lap.
Which caused you to screw up your face and do the only physical action a baby can really master. Which would be crying.
The whole situation was doubly frustrating, Kaitlyn, in that your growing mind somehow grasped that if my mother is over there with no baby in her arms then who the hell is holding me?
At that time turning around to ascertain just who was holding Kaitlyn wasn’t all that easy what with limited infant movement. I get the impression that baby Kaitlyn is quite tired of having to be depend on other human beings for her own movements.
Which might be why you are ahead of your time Kaitlyn Mae.
You have an urgent need to get all about on your own, Kaitlyn and I think this is an indicator of something.
I’m not sure what, Kaitlyn, but perhaps your Mom could look it up on Luvs.com.
Of course the urge to move about on one’s own is pretty much universal across the human species. Else many of the adult world would likely still be crawling all about; some might still be sitting in their little kiddie chair and staring at the world.
It’s a matter of how soon that says something about an individual, Kaitlyn, and I have always been impressed by how much your infant self yearned for freedom of movement.
Now I’m working on a hunch here, Kaitlyn. No web sites have updated my mind is what I’m saying here.
You’ve always been a baby to grunt and wave your arms and legs all about. More so than another baby your age I’d assert. Granting my limited experience with babies.
I’m thinking it’s in your genes, Kaitlyn. Duh. Most everything is in your genes. And this trait comes to you directly from your paternal side.
Your paternal side, Kaitlyn, is a strange one. I say this, of course, as scion of your maternal side, the side that provides your beauty and brains.
You want fast-paced movement, go see your Daddy’s family.
Heck our entire family has LOW blood pressure, Kaitlyn. We spring from folks unafraid of hard work but we know how to take it easy, Kaitlyn.
This is not to cast aspersions on your father’s family, Kaitlyn. Not at all. They are an energetic, creative bunch. Sometimes, Kaitlyn, they are a bit reckless.
Like baby Kaitlyn wanting to fly across the air to her mother’s arms, physics be damned.
Kaitlyn Rolls Over
And so your Mom tells me, Kaitlyn, that you have rolled over. This at almost four months of age. You can roll over “both” ways as your Mom describes it and my mind took ages to configure this concept.
Evidently, Kaitlyn, babies can roll from their stomach to their back, or from their back to their stomach. If I understand this correctly, the roll from back to stomach is a bit more difficult in that there is no curved sort of belly surface to make such a maneuver easier. When baby is on stomach, that mere act of moving strongly in one direction makes rolling over from stomach to back easier as the chubby belly acts as a pivot.
Which is quite enough physics for this grandmother to grapple.
I did have a baby but can recall no major benchmarks. Though I must assume that life’s mile markers were reached and surpassed by this former baby in that she can now walk, talk, and no longer wets the bed.
Your mother, Kaitlyn, has the Internet to guide her through motherhood at each and every phase.
Our I-messages are peppered with expert quotes from child-rearing web sites as to the proper age for a baby to be rolling over. Which would be, Kaitlyn, an age of four to six months.
You would seem to be rolling all over your parents’ floor as if a baby bowling ball approximately one week before your time.
I must say I’m impressed.
Understand, Kaitlyn, that at some point my baby rolled all around as I do recall one incident when she rolled clear off the bed and banged her head on the floor with a boo-boo.
She might have been ahead of her time as well but, alas, I had no web sites to guide me.
Your Mom tells me that while rolling over has brought great joy to your little life, you are now frustrated because laying around on one’s belly, forced to lift that heavy head in order to view the world, was a bit boring. In time you have to be turned over by your mother.
“She wants to crawl,” your mother informs me.
An action not normally mastered by babies until 6 months to 8 months of age. Your mother told me this fact as well. Obtained from the Gerber Baby well baby web site.
Though I must agree, Kaitlyn, that you probably do want to crawl because I don’t ever recall an infant that if sheer force of will was all powerful would be walking on air across the room.
I was holding you in my lap, sort of sitting you up with your front away from mine. Your mother was opposite me, her face towards us. Suddenly you realized the person holding you was not your mother as right there in front of your sweet baby face was your very own mother who held no baby in her lap.
The four month old Kaitlyn then began grunting and thrusting her torso in some attempt of forward movement. Your infant mind hadn’t quite developed the precise physics of forward motion but your instincts told you it required some energetic type actions by your body.
I had to hold you down as if an errant puppy, Kaitlyn, so determined were you to eject yourself from my lap, into the air and across the space span into your mother’s lap.
Which caused you to screw up your face and do the only physical action a baby can really master. Which would be crying.
The whole situation was doubly frustrating, Kaitlyn, in that your growing mind somehow grasped that if my mother is over there with no baby in her arms then who the hell is holding me?
At that time turning around to ascertain just who was holding Kaitlyn wasn’t all that easy what with limited infant movement. I get the impression that baby Kaitlyn is quite tired of having to be depend on other human beings for her own movements.
Which might be why you are ahead of your time Kaitlyn Mae.
You have an urgent need to get all about on your own, Kaitlyn and I think this is an indicator of something.
I’m not sure what, Kaitlyn, but perhaps your Mom could look it up on Luvs.com.
Of course the urge to move about on one’s own is pretty much universal across the human species. Else many of the adult world would likely still be crawling all about; some might still be sitting in their little kiddie chair and staring at the world.
It’s a matter of how soon that says something about an individual, Kaitlyn, and I have always been impressed by how much your infant self yearned for freedom of movement.
Now I’m working on a hunch here, Kaitlyn. No web sites have updated my mind is what I’m saying here.
You’ve always been a baby to grunt and wave your arms and legs all about. More so than another baby your age I’d assert. Granting my limited experience with babies.
I’m thinking it’s in your genes, Kaitlyn. Duh. Most everything is in your genes. And this trait comes to you directly from your paternal side.
Your paternal side, Kaitlyn, is a strange one. I say this, of course, as scion of your maternal side, the side that provides your beauty and brains.
You want fast-paced movement, go see your Daddy’s family.
Heck our entire family has LOW blood pressure, Kaitlyn. We spring from folks unafraid of hard work but we know how to take it easy, Kaitlyn.
This is not to cast aspersions on your father’s family, Kaitlyn. Not at all. They are an energetic, creative bunch. Sometimes, Kaitlyn, they are a bit reckless.
Like baby Kaitlyn wanting to fly across the air to her mother’s arms, physics be damned.
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