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Thursday, October 07, 2004

I'm beginning to see a pattern forming over at my parent's house.

Dad: (entering room) I'm going to Wal-mart.
Mom: Oh, I need this, this, this, that, this, and these. (turning to me) Go with your Dad.
Me: Someone should write that stuff down.
Mom: (makes a list including this, this, that, this, and these.)

At Wal-mart my dad and I work as a team starting at one end of the store. Referring to the list, we slowly make our way to the opposite end, checking off items as we go.

I typically slip a five or six dollar item into the mix. (OK, maybe nine or ten dollar.)

Dad: (standing at the check-out counter.) Eighty dollars! I should leave you at home next time!

This same scenario has repeated itself exactly three times now.

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A school-boy with his arm in a sling, finds shelter from the down pour under a tree. He looks pathetic and helpless. He has begun picking the bark from a tree trunk to entertain himself.

A string of cars lined up at the stop light sees him, feels his pain, but knows offering him a ride is much, much worse than leaving him in the rain, under a tree, with a broken arm.


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