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2002-02-25 | 11:11 a.m.

Sweet Fancy Moses sent me some code to redo my navigation bar, which is just unutterably cool. I will change it later, when I have more time. And I have been having WAY too much fun reading all the slam book entries. My regulars, my D-land friends, are just so ... cool. You rawk.

I do feel a little guilty for not putting more effort into the questions. But I also told myself, "It's a slam book! Get over yourself!" I didn't want it to be too much of a time suck.

A couple of people have mentioned not being able to get in, but I went there myself and didn't have a problem. And I know lots of people are making it in otherwise. So maybe it's one of those annoying browser incompatibility issues? Either that or the site may be temperamental.

I'm nervous today because I have to go to the WTC exhibit and then write my first column and turn it in by tonight. Usually I don't get nervous until I'm actually in the writing stage, but I haven't done anything like this in so long that I can't remember how to be blas� about it.

Before I go, I want to mention a couple of things the kids have done. This morning, Felony shook her hair out and said, "Do you think people will ever say, 'Boy, there's no mistaking who that lovely brown hair belongs to. It's so long and wavy.'" Meaning herself. She's so vain, and she totally inherited it from my side of the family, I'm embarrassed to admit. I said, "No, they'll probably say, "Boy, there's no mistaking who that is, bouncing off the walls." She didn't think that was funny at all. She worries a lot about being cool, and when I said both the girls were cool, she said, "How can Criminy be cool? She wears dresses." To which the little voice in the back of my head is screaming, "Homeschool! You're losing her!"

The other thing----I can't remember if I've mentioned this already----is that Jasper has started threatening to move to Legoland whenever he's overtired and doesn't get his way. He'll start crying and, while it's hard to make out just what he's saying, it goes a little like this: "When I move to Legoland, YOU are NOT coming with me! I'm going to live there ALL by MYSELF! And I won't have ANY Mommy and Daddy! And NO sisters!" He's been to Legoland, but he was only a year and a half old at the time, so he doesn't really remember it. He thinks it's a real town where everything is made out of Legos, not a theme park that costs a hundred bucks to get into. When I get to thinking about him, three years old, hitchhiking to Legoland with a little hobo-style bandanna on a stick over his shoulder, I get hysterical with laughter. And then I remember that there are official highway signs on the way to Legoland that show a family of illegal immigrants running across the freeway, and the little kid in the family is being dragged with such haste that she is literally aloft, teddy bear flying in the breeze, and when I imagine Jasper down there in front of the sign, trying to figure it out, with a little hobo bundle on his shoulder, it's all I can do to drive. The tears are running down my face and I can barely remain upright.

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