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Explosions!
Jul. 6th, 2011 07:47 amBut first, a story.
When I was a tiny little person, MW and Panda created a sensible policy, to whit: one wail out of me, and one of them would remove me from an area where I might be annoying someone else. This applied to places such as synagogue where people were trying to pray, and also places like playgrounds, where all I really did was bother the other kids who had every right to use that slide. (I, being not-stupid even at that young age, took tremendous advantage of this policy to not sit in religious services.) My point with this story is to explain that the correct reaction to a screaming baby is not to sush, but to remove the baby*.
I tell a lie; have another story.
When I was still a wee person, but slightly less wee than previously, my parents took me to see some fireworks at Disney-place. I was still in a stroller, all wrapped up in my blanket. The first firework went up, and in Panda's words, my face lit up.
Then the noise hit, and I went "meep!" and hid under the blankets and was not seen for the rest of the night. I retain a very clear memory of looking up at the night sky and watching fireworks, from inside the stroller.
But my point is that if your very young child is screaming during the fireworks, you remove them rather than letting it bother everyone else, Idiot Mother. Or, y'know, cover its ears. Ten to one the lights are not what is scaring it!
Also, a conversation between me and JJ that we had while waiting for the show:
Me: [sitting on a towel on the grass] . . . my ass is cold.
JJ: I really wish you wouldn't just say that kind of stuff!
Me: [?] Why? My ass is cold.
JJ: Yes, but there are kids around!
Me: Are there? Oh, shit!
JJ: . . . do you even listen to yourself?
The second explosion, which chronologically occurred first but I did not find out about until today, is a sad one. My former coworker, Seamus, flew little stunt planes at air shows, with smoke drawings, etc. etc.
He crashed Sunday.
Let us all have a moment of silence for him.
The third explosion was the one today as I blew up my rig yet again. I'm getting tired of it, but I've been taught to make my own gaskets now, which means I can stop bothering Craig about it and play around with the (crap-poor) gasket placement/design. So I waited for it to stop burninating (srsly, it blew at ~200C) and then took it apart and cleaned it. It is almost back together, so I can blow it up again first thing in the morning!
*If you are one of those people who take young children onto airplanes without first heavily sedating them, you deserve to be shot. And then shot again.
When I was a tiny little person, MW and Panda created a sensible policy, to whit: one wail out of me, and one of them would remove me from an area where I might be annoying someone else. This applied to places such as synagogue where people were trying to pray, and also places like playgrounds, where all I really did was bother the other kids who had every right to use that slide. (I, being not-stupid even at that young age, took tremendous advantage of this policy to not sit in religious services.) My point with this story is to explain that the correct reaction to a screaming baby is not to sush, but to remove the baby*.
I tell a lie; have another story.
When I was still a wee person, but slightly less wee than previously, my parents took me to see some fireworks at Disney-place. I was still in a stroller, all wrapped up in my blanket. The first firework went up, and in Panda's words, my face lit up.
Then the noise hit, and I went "meep!" and hid under the blankets and was not seen for the rest of the night. I retain a very clear memory of looking up at the night sky and watching fireworks, from inside the stroller.
But my point is that if your very young child is screaming during the fireworks, you remove them rather than letting it bother everyone else, Idiot Mother. Or, y'know, cover its ears. Ten to one the lights are not what is scaring it!
Also, a conversation between me and JJ that we had while waiting for the show:
Me: [sitting on a towel on the grass] . . . my ass is cold.
JJ: I really wish you wouldn't just say that kind of stuff!
Me: [?] Why? My ass is cold.
JJ: Yes, but there are kids around!
Me: Are there? Oh, shit!
JJ: . . . do you even listen to yourself?
The second explosion, which chronologically occurred first but I did not find out about until today, is a sad one. My former coworker, Seamus, flew little stunt planes at air shows, with smoke drawings, etc. etc.
He crashed Sunday.
Let us all have a moment of silence for him.
The third explosion was the one today as I blew up my rig yet again. I'm getting tired of it, but I've been taught to make my own gaskets now, which means I can stop bothering Craig about it and play around with the (crap-poor) gasket placement/design. So I waited for it to stop burninating (srsly, it blew at ~200C) and then took it apart and cleaned it. It is almost back together, so I can blow it up again first thing in the morning!
*If you are one of those people who take young children onto airplanes without first heavily sedating them, you deserve to be shot. And then shot again.
