I found out something interesting today...

Apparently, compulsive hoarding is hereditary. My mom compulsively buys and hoards yarns, her brother has boxes and boxes of Merlot and Chardonnay, their mom rather compulsively *doesn't* hoard things and kept an obsessively neat house for years....

This makes me feel rather better about my own collecting issues. Genetics, I can work with. *eyes room distastefully* Genetics are, to an extent, overcomeable, if you recognize them as such.

(Oh, and on the other side, my father compulsively collected non-garbage items people had left outside as trash, and his mom was... well... best not discussed, I think.)

Jenn and co. dragged me out to buy jeans at Lane Bryant

Jenn is in love with their manniquins. It's a little frightening. (Oh, segue, I love this admittedly quite violent quote)

I'd volunteered to put the baby to sleep while we were at the ferry terminal, so I sat there rocking her and singing the alphabet backwards. When I got bored with that, I moved onto "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat"

Pretty standard, right?

Apparently not. The people behind me thought my singing merited discussion, and, since mere whispers weren't subtle enough, they decided to whisper while using Oppish. You know, the code one learns after realizing the entire world knows Pig Latin? Where you insert "op" (or "ub" or any number of similar syllables) after every consonant?

Because, after all, no other adult in the world could possibly know a child's code-game. Nope, never!

*headdesk*

Some people....