Thursday, August 17, 2006

Visiting Columbia today. I wanted to take Anonymous Son along, but his mother was afraid he'd get shot, and so he stayed home. I told her it's no more dangerous here than it is at the department store sales she drags him to when she needs someone to help her carry her bags. People get trampled there. That didn't convince her. I'll come back with one of those trick bullet holes from a magic shop, stick it to my shoulder and wait for her reaction. It's too easy. I told her the campus is separate from the rest of the community and I wouldn't put our son in any danger but it didn't matter. She was worried I'd force him off the macrobiotic diet she's experimenting with. I wish she wouldn't experiment with our son. But it's not like I'm home enough to monitor what he eats. She has him drinking something called Kombucha, which smells like a cross between urine and paralegals. Terrible. Reminds me of work.

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