*cough*
[2005-10-29 - 4:03 p.m.]

My daughter decided to spend the night at ECSU, without a plan for getting home. So, Mom to the rescue, up over the river and thru the woods on Rt. 32 in autumn. The rolling hills and abundance of space reminded me of playing outside when I was a kid. We lived on a non-working farm that belonged to my mother's legendary Aunt Angie. There were empty barns, and woods, and ponds. There were cows in the pastures along side and behind our home, but they belond to a different family.

We had the luxury of yelling as long and as loud as we felt like it. No one even cared. No one looked at us with cross faces and said "Stop! that yelling RIGHT NOW," thru clenched teeth. We could have yelled for an hour and still not filled up the spaces of those green outdoor rooms. The only time we got scolded was if we startled the cows.

Sometimes, if Chris was bored, he would try to make them flinch. Being all of 4 feet tall and 35 lbs of terror, I can testify that it didn't happen often. I got the feeling the cows looked at him and thought, "what, the flies are dressing in Garanimals now?" And as for me, I just couldn't bring myself to be mean to them. After all, they're COWS. Who wastes time teasing cows when you have 4, count em 4! younger kids around to boss and terrify.

Time to end this entry. I just inhaled some barbeque pork rind dust.