My friend's got a girlfriend
Man he hates that bitch
He tells me every day
He says "man I really gotta lose my chick
In the worst kind of way"

She sits on her ass
He works his hands to the bone
To give her money every payday
But she wants more dinero just to stay at home
Well my friend
You gotta say:

I won't pay, I won't pay ya, no way
(now now) Why don't you get a job
Say no way, say no way ya, no way
(now now) Why don't you get a job

I guess all his money, well it isn't enough
To keep her bill collectors at bay
I guess all his money, well it isn't enough
Cause that girl's got expensive taste

I won't pay, I won't pay ya, no way
(now now) Why don't you get a job
Say no way, say no way ya, no way
(now now) Why don't you get a job

Well I guess it ain't easy doing nothing at all oh yeah
But hey man free rides just don't come along
every day

Na lista abaixo, em negrito estão os nomes dos artistas e em itálico os nomes das músicas.

1. Jet “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” parece com Iggy Pop “Lust for Life”
2. Fergie “Fergalicious” parece com  J.J. Fad “Supersonic”
3. The Beatles “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da” parece com  Offspring’s “Why Don’t You Get a Job”
4. Bruce Springsteen “Born to Run” parece com  Blondie “X Offender”
5. Nirvana “Smells Like Teen Spirit” parece com  Boston “More Than a Feeling”
6. Nazareth “Hair of the Dog” parece com  the Beatles “Day Tripper”
7. The Doors “Roadhouse Blues” parece com  Oasis “Put Yer Money Where Your Mouth Is”
8. Foo Fighters “Monkey Wrench” parece com  Elton John “Whipping Boy”
9. Sublime “What I Got” parece com  the Beatles “Lady Madonna”
10. Wilco “Walken” parece com  Spoon “Don’t Make Me a Target”
11. Akon “Don’t Matter” parece com  R. Kelly “Ignition” (Remix)
12. Billy Joel “Honesty” parece com  Elton John “Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word”
13. Phish “Farmhouse” parece com  Bob Marley “No Woman No Cry”
14. Elastica “Connection” parece com  Wire “Three Girl Rhumba”
15. Bryan Adams “Summer of 69” parece com  Green Day “Jesus of Suburbia”
16. Def Leppard “Pour Some Sugar on Me” parece com  Weezer “Beverly Hills”
17. Natalie Imbruglia “Torn” parece com  The Black-Eyed Peas “Where is the Love”
18. The Kinks “Picture Book” parece com  Green Day “Warning”
19. The Killers “When You Were Young” parece com  Bruce Springsteen “Born to Run”
20. Pearl Jam “Given to Fly” parece com  Led Zeppelin “Going to California”

by [|-DaRio-|]

Don't laugh -- there's, like, an actual person doing serious scientifical researchification on geezer genetics and stuff and he says guys like this ---->
are the key to evolution!
::: repeat after me: 'anything's possible with a paper bag' :::

Steve Jones of University College London scarily asserts that "human evolution is grinding to a halt because of a shortage of older fathers in the West".
::: nothin' like a little pressure, right?!? :::

Jones says peepaws are prone to pass on the, uhh, 'mutations' necessary for folks to continue plodding our way down Darwin's path.
::: I knew it! We ARE freaks of nature!! :::

“Human social change often changes our genetic future,” he said, citing marriage patterns and contraception as examples. “Quite unexpectedly, we have dropped the human mutation rate because of a change in reproductive patterns."

I mean, ok, we could try to warp our Watson-Crick through chemical intervention or set up shop in some radioactive Real Estate, but who wants to get all Chernobyl only to plop out another average Earthling?

Not me!

Nope, if Jones is right and it's the gnarly goo in old-man spoo that puts the man in humanity -- then it's time to give grampa the good joog ... just like that other Jones ... Catherine Zeta, that is.

You didn't know it but this bad bitch has been working hard on behalf of all of humanity!
::: Thanx CZJ! xoxoxo :::

She's taking this whole 'sexy septuagenarian' scenario VERY seriously!
I mean, why else would she consciously breed with the Crypt Keeper and birth a bunch of mutant babies???

Poke a pensioner - save the world!

Well, at on time this may have been more true than in today's times. I believe I need to give credit where credit is due. A lot of men take their responsibilities very seriously when it comes to their children. I see them get very involved in their everyday stuff. Sometimes more so then the mother's! I am also sure that there are families who have mom's that can agree 100% with the above statement, right? Some dad's are in la la land! Oh well, such is life! You gotta laugh. I believe most people mean well, they just have a weird way of showing it!

I guess that would have been the moment to reassure her that maybe he'd come back unharmed, but I just didn't have any words after that.

We rarely call anything what it is around here. So when Niko pees, we say he's got stinky britches. When he poops, he's got a funky butt. It works out, because I can openly talk about what's happening in his diaper (which, trust me, is a lot more necessary than you think before you have kids), while still avoiding certain words that send me reeling in disgust every time I hear them.

Well, when Nikolai has a funky butt, the proper procedure is this: wipe (with cloth wipes that I sewed by hand thankyouverymuch), put on his new britches, drop the wipes in the solution of borax and baking soda waiting in the washing machine (they soak all day), then you have to scrape as much funky butt as you can into the toilet with the little Pampered Chef spatula, which is always kept in reach....then you use the spray bottle, also conveniently located next to the toilet, to soak the britches with the vinegar//water//Dr. Bronners solution. Then pop those suckers into the washing machine, and you're all done. Wash your hands!

I know it sounds like a lot of work. And compared to using disposable everything, it totally is. But like I said, it's just one of those things you have to do, so you do it. I'm telling you this, though I know it is not a pleasant topic, for a reason.

Specifically, I want you to understand why there was white vinegar all over the toilet last night. See, Josh had changed Nikolai's diaper right before he was due to go to bed. It was a funky butt, so all of the steps above had to be followed to a tee. Josh is more adverse to doing it than I am, but I was feeling progressively worse by the second, so he really didn't have a choice.

Well, when he was done, I had to pee, so I went to the bathroom and had a pee.

There was vinegar all over the toilet seat, and I sat right smack dab down in it. I was so pissed off. Josh should have the common GD sense to either not get that stuff all over the place (how many effing times do I need to tell him to lift the seat when he's doing a diaper?! He NEVER EVER LISTENS TO ANYTHING I TELL HIM)....or at the very least he should have wiped it off.

My brain was sizzling with the white-hot heat of rage. I threw open the bathroom door and I hollered to Josh, "Joshua!!!!!"

He turned from the sink and I opened my mouth to give him a good piece of my mind. What an ignorant, childish, thoughtless thing to do! I lifted my hand in protest...I leaned forward aggressively, prepared for any inane self-defense he might lob my way....I squinted my face all up....I started to talk...

and then I started to cry.

Totally overwhelmed suddenly by a migraine that had been brewing all day, I could barely say anything. At the same time, my stomach shot out daggers in every direction, so that I couldn't stand upright any longer. Hunched over, and weeping, I futilely told Josh that I sat in vinegar. He looked at me like I was the most pitiful thing he'd ever seen in his life [not quite yet, but later that night, surely] and apologized for leaving vinegar on the seat.

I stumbled over to the couch and burrowed under the big warm blankets there, shivering.

The shivering got worse and worse and worse and then BAM I had to get, and I had to get quick. I bounded across the room as fast as I could, and barely made it to the bathroom in time to retch my soul into the bowl.

When it was finally over I sat helpless, crying and shaking on the floor. I opened the door and screamed as loud as I could, which came out as a hoarse whisper, for Josh to bring me some water, please. He came over with my water, and I held onto his leg repeating over and over, "I don't feel good. I don't feel good. Josh I don't feel good." My whole body was in pain and I felt like the hairs on my head were moving around too much; they were making my head throb.

Josh helped me up, and gave me a tylenol. Neither one of us could remember if I'm allowed to take tylenol, but it's all we could find, so there you have it. He went ahead of me to get the bed ready. Always the mother, I tucked Nikos blankets in around him before I crawled miserably into bed. Josh tucked me in, laid a warm wash cloth over my eyes and kissed me goodnight.

I laid there shaking for what seemed like an hour, but I'm sure it was only like ten minutes. Maybe less. Finally I fell dead asleep until Nikolai woke me up at 4 this morning.

I feel better than I did last night, but I feel exactly the same as I did this time yesterday. So...it's probably going to happen again, except tonight Josh won't be around to help because he has to go with his parents to get hay.

This....ohhhh THIS is why I swore up and down that I'd never be pregnant again. Sheesh.

Surprisingly, the lettuce is still out there reaching for the sky. We need to quit being risky though and eat it already. The Swiss Chard seems to be growing at a nice normal rate (I don't have any experience to compare) but the cabbage (of which there is A LOT) is growing really slowly. I was anticipating many quarts of cabbage n' noodles for Rose--cause she's a mite obsessed--but I'd be surprised to get a single dinner out of those suckers.

I had been kicking around the idea of constructing a cold frame to go over the patch of garden where this stuff is, but everyone is calling for a long, hard winter that's going to pop up suddenly and then never go away. So I don't know that it'd be worth the effort.

I have my garlic hardened off and ready to get in the ground, but I'm putting it off until I can buy enough mulch [probably straw] to give it a nice, warm blanket. I also need to get a couple dozen bales of straw to put in the chicken coop over the winter, and also to stack around the tractor to insulate it from  wind. It's been suggested that I put them in the barn--and I still may do that--but I'd really like them to have the opportunity to soak up whatever sun they can get. However, I don't have any sort of water warming device, so if it gets too freezy for me either to be able to keep them in drinking water, or it's overly difficult to open the tractor, I'll have no choice but to put them in the barn. They should be cozy enough in there with the heat of the horses. We shall see.

In other Acre's news, the time is rapidly approaching when I will need to cull the ducks. The folks are still pushing for me to take them to a place in Amish country, but I still think it's too much of a hassle for two little ol' ducks. Soooo Dad is supposed to come up Monday, and he's killed and eaten his own duck before, so I'm going to do it while he's around. When he did it, he just rudimentarily plucked and ate the things. He didn't remove the bowels or anything, which is a pretty risky game to play. So it's not that I'm waiting on him so that he can impart his great duck-killing wisdom on a sista. Rather, he would be my insurance policy against copping out. He can be pretty intimidating, and over the years I've developed a knack for never flinching no matter what happens when he's around. We can delve into this some other time. The point is that two of those ducks have got to go and Dad will be helping out in his own special way.

This has nothing to so with husbandry or agriculture, but Nikolai is trying to figure out how to clap his hands. It is the CA-YOOTEST thing I have ever seen in my entire life. He gets really excited about doing it, and inevitably end up smacking himself in the face. Also, if you say HIGH FIVE, he puts a hand up for you to smack repeatedly. He doesn't think this is very much fun, but he does it just the same. He seems to watch my face when I do it, as if he plays the High Five game just to amuse his mother.

I hope he always has that attitude about doing things I ask him to do that he doesn't care for!

Here are her stats:

Weight:  23 pounds 14 ounces (40%)

Height:  31 inches (30%)

Head:  18 inches (25%) - still small, but cute.

I have read if you double a child's height at 18 months it can help predict how tall they will be as an adult.  At this point Julia would be shorter than me, about 5 foot 2.  Poor girl.  I don't know how true this is, but I guess we will see.

They also looked at her ears and said there is fulid on them, but it is clear, which means no infection, thank goodness.  So, why does she keep getting up?  Tim has a theory that she is cold.  I guess we need to start training her all over again.  She got 3 shots in total today - Hep A, tetnus and flu.  She did not like it all.  She was crying before they were given.  Last time she didn't even flinch.

We were up last night with both of them.  Delton was crying for about an hour saying his ear hurt.  So, I made an appointment to make sure he was alright and didn't have an ear infection, since his tubes came out this summer.  The doctor said his ear drums look good.  The ear that was bothering him has the tube at the end of the ear canal ready to fall out.  She said that it has a big ball of wax and it might have been uncomfortable for him.  She tried to get it out, but had no luck getting it out all the way.  I'm just curious at what it would look like (I'm gross like that).  Maybe I should become a doctor,  Delton also got his flu vacination - through a mist in his nose.  He didn't want to get it done and held his hand over his nose for 15 minutes while we were waiting for the nurse to come back and give him and Julia there vacinations.

OK, maybe there's one.

I have been entrenched in deep thought for the past few days. When not thinking to myself, I've been having important conversations with Josh.

I am, you see, PREGNANT. Again.

Yay!

According to the *official* baby due-date formula, this kid will be arriving on the scene some time around the first week of June//last week of May. Niko's due date fluctuated wildly throughout the pregnancy, so we'll see about this business.

I don't have to tell you, as most of you know already, that I am no fan of being pregnant. I dislike it so much, I swore it off forever. Now I feel pretty silly about that. But whadareyagonnado. The fact is that I am now.  We are good parents, no doubt about it. And this old world could use a few more kids borne of good parents. Besides, we reckoned, we wanted at least one more kid some day...so we might as well go on and do it now that the bean is in the belly.

One thing that weighed heavily on my conscience was whether or not a new baby would be good for Niko. Maybe, not even in such stark black and white terms but rather, how will this change things for Nikolai? I know that it can sometimes be extremely difficult for children to adjust to younger siblings. Though I am still pretty anxious about that, in the end I decided that Niko will probably thrive with another kid hangin around. He's not a very needy fella.

Anyway, all those things that happen, are happening. I'm nervous and excited at the same time. A little nauseous every once in a while. Note to self: invest in a few buckets of berry Tums. Mmmm, berry tums.

I'm off to pour over baby websites I've already read a dozen times. More details when I can get my thoughts together!

In my dreams I see you there

surrendering to waves that bear,

your silent dance of love.

In softly flowing sea grass,

somewhere far below,

Two creatures reach towards the sun,

Entwined upon the waves

as one.

They sacrifice their lives

to form a sacred gift,

Seeking one another,

In Sargasso seas they drift.

An act of love that saves,

The sons and daughters of the waves.

Their gift of love once offered,

shall never be in vain,

The love they made reflected

in the offspring that remain.

Julia is so into this book, we have read it every night now for over a week.  She keeps insisting that we take her cute little finger and place it and count each touch and feel item on the page (it's a counting touch and feel counting book).  

Onto another subject about Julia:

SHE NEEDS TO STOP WAKING UP AT NIGHT.  This has been happening now for about 3 weeks and it's taking a tole on us.  I'm not sure what it is.  We get her a drink of water and snuggle for a bit and she goes right back to sleep.  She has her 18 month check up on Friday, I'm wondering if it's her ears again.  I know from past experiences that we should just let her cry through it, but she might wake Delton.  Then that's a whole different story.

A parte ruim disso tudo é que não há bolso que agüente tantos shows acontecendo. Entre a filha da Elis e o Marcelo Camelo, tive que optar. Sem falar na vontade de ver KT Tunstall e Offspring (embora eu tenha medo sim de ser pisoteada no show)!

Mas, tem um que eu espero não perder de jeito maneira. Todo dia busco novas informações na web sobre o show do R.E.M. Sim, aqueles caras da música Loosing My Religion e Shinny Happy People (que quase foi a minha música de formatura...)! Ainda é meio surreal, mas eles vêm tocar em Porto Alegre e no Zequinha!

Passei minha adolescência vendo clipes deles na MTV e ouvindo suas músicas. Tinha até um CD do tipo "the best of" sabe? Mas emprestei pra alguém que nunca devolveu. Pois é! Ainda bem que hoje não se empresta MP3... (Aline, vou devolver teus cd's com MP3 viu? não te preocupa!). Então, será realmente muito bom assistir um show desse porte. Estou na expectativa para saber quanto será o ingresso...

Como não dá pra ir a todos, é preciso escolher. Se você amigo leitor é uma pessoa abonada, tira este popô da cadeira e vai a todos estes shows!!! ou a qualquer um que gostares. Mas vá.

Sobre a Maria Rita, só posso dizer que quem quiser sambar muito com as maravilhosas músicas dela, tem a minha companhia garantida!

We were at my family reunion and someone looks at Delton and said, "Delton, you look like you grew three feet."  Delton than proceeds to look down at his feet to see if he grew three feet.

Tonight Julia was brushing her teeth and I got out the hand held mirror for her to look in and brush.  She was looking in the mirror for a while, she then went and looked at the back of the mirror to see where the reflection was coming from.  I guess she thought she was also behind the mirror.  How cute.

Uh, OK.

Now, when we use the fruits and vegetables, our food tastes so good. We get that “it quality” that melts on our taste buds and we exclaim, “oh and ahs”. This encourages us to branch out our gardening for more of the tougher things to grow. For example: fruit bearing trees. The sense of accomplishment after doing this, just one time, swarms all over. The “Wow”.

You start to remember how your parents, grandparents, or just older people use to talk about rotating what you grow during the season because the soil just used a lot of nutrients. It needs time to “heal”, just like you or me. But it continues to give you encouragement and you expand your garden, even if in the yard or in your house. Exciting!

That is such a pretty picture. However it is a picture that a number of people do not do anymore. The sense of accomplishment does not come from a simple garden, not like it use too. Accomplishment has been redefined. I ask you, at what cost?

People rely heavily on unregulated produce to filter into their local grocery stores. They expect, because it has been demanded, the produce to be of the best quality. As I have said before, our own government has stated that regulations are antiquated.

A few months ago, right before Wall Street started tanking and bottoming out, there was a report. This report let it be known that there were not enough people employed to do proper inspections on the food we eat. OOOO…WEEE… (Note: Just following up as I said I would. And remember you will have a few months where things level off.)

Now let’s see if I can help you, the consumer on these “fine products”, out there being offered. Review the facts:

The government pays farmers across America not to grow fresh produce.

The government gets the major producers of our meats to say they are not using cloned animals in our food supply. Months after, red warning flags were raised. (Also, it involves the cloning wheat, maze, and corn.)

The government admits the loophole of properly inspecting the food being shipped into America.

Yes, fine products indeed. Continuing with the breakdown … ready?

This past season, I got to watch two huge fields, acres, of corn grow. I had waited patiently for the farmer to harvest his crop. That time has come and gone. The fields of corn were never harvested. All of that corn grown and the nutrients from the ground sucked dry. Damn. It was fresh produce. Actual yellow corn!! When you go to the grocery store again, I’m sure you will see what I mean. Yellow corn isn’t so yellow is it?

Now, we have all heard the MANY reports that our water supply is heavily tainted. Heavily! Hell, there was even an outbreak of E. Coli from use of the regular tap water. (By the way, I think that was a test.) Sure if we boil the water, we change the composition of it, thus killing bacteria, and removing our own pollutants, but what about when we water gardens or rinse off our fruits and vegetables?? Anyone stopping long enough to think about that? A direct attack on a weak or strong immune system could be devasting! Not to mention the millions of test you will have to under go at the hospital, from people who practice medicine through trial and error still.

Our genetic make-up is slowly being changed by just those two factors, and when you throw in the cloned meats and/or dairy products, plus other of our own pollutants, who knows what could happen.

The good news is that we will all find out at the same time. Sure we will. It passes off and along to offspring.

How do we avoid killing or seriously damaging our own gardens then?? Recycle. Years ago, I saw my mom do this.

Take a hose and hook it up to your washing machine drainage. When the water from the machine drains, it will (if you have put the hose in your garden) water your plants. How in the world does this help? The detergent is soap. Think about the ingredients to soap. ~~ Neat uh? Also too, if there is a drought, this is a fabulous way to make sure your plants get sufficient water to grow.

Remember to till the soil. It is just another form of irrigation, give or take. If you have indoor plants from the winter. Remember to take the soil from the bucket and put it in your garden. The soil will mix itself and combine and strengthen. This will also give you an idea over time, what will work good in the soil you have. (Work good as in, what will grow.)

Have a good mind to visit your local fishing shack or a place you can get worms too. Worms are great to have in your garden. Grubs are different and attracted to different plants. If you see one, it’s your call if you pick it up and move it - not kill it.

Once you go out to harvest the fruits of your labor, make sure you say “thanks”. Proven study, talking to plants helps them grow - don’t forget that.

Remember too ~ boil some water before you go outside to pick a fruits or vegetables. Let the water sit and come back to room temperature. The accomplishment behind this: health. You have a clean, wow, exciting, healthy, fresh produce to eat.

September 29th, 2008 --- Open to how you view this ---

The most important part of education is proper training in the nursery.
Plato

September 30th, 2008 --- "The Holes in America's Food Saftey Net" --- Have a good read ---

http://news.yahoo.com/s/time/20080930/hl_time/theholesinamericasfoodsafetynet8232

A banda que tem um registro IMPORTANTÍSSIMO na minha adolescência é essa:

Agora ow! Junta tudo isso e acrescenta que,se for rolar no Mineirão como de costume, é a minutos da minha casa. JesusMariaJosé! De boa que eu faço até questão de me vestir de fantasia do capeta como na época só pra nostalgia ser completa. (Mintira) Cara, isso é muito foda! Quem não se lembra de clássicas como Pretty Fly (For A White Guy), Original Prankster, Hit That (um pouco mais recente) e de clipes clássicos como:

Nossasenhora! Já tenho até medo da crise de pirralho que vou dar, quando tiver em frente a um show desses caras e na ausência de voz do outro dia. Tudo bem que no meio desse grande evento a gente é obrigado a aguentar NX Zero, Charlie Brown Jr e alguns pop rocks afins, mas né? Offspring...

E mais! De brinde, vai rolar até uma outra atração joinha:

Tá! Maroon 5 é uma banda que eu não gosto mas também não odeio. A gente releva o fato desse cara ter uma vozinha de bichinha passiva (chega aí fih!) e faço questão de ir lá pra frente só pra ver essa viada... ops! Eaah... ver um homem desse de perto. Ow! Bunidimais. Né? Carinha de bom menino que deixa a gente fazer o que quiser, como que não vai prestigiar? Preciso saber se ele existe mesmo pô! Vou pagar de vadia (oi?) e ficar gritando lá na frente: "Adaaaam.. i love u!"

huahuahuahuahuahuaha... Mentira gente! que iiiiiisso.. eu? nã nã não..

Agora é sério. Dia 8 e 9 de Novembro aqui em BH, Pop Rock Brasil 2008. Offspring minha gente! Eu disse OOOFFSPRING! Por eles, vale a pena até pagar peitinho pra Pitty. E digo mais: Se esse buato de que o Pop Rock foi mesmo cancelado, eu vou chorar tá?!

New dad Clay Aiken has confirmed to People magazine that he is gay

Oh what a bombshell ... Gayken's out, mystery solved.
Zzzzzzzzzzz

B.

B.

Delusion plays well into the old-fashioned game of ambition.  Out of the starting gate, it becomes an institutional power grab:  who, in fact, attends the most prestigious graduate schools or works at the most innovative workplace.  Salary, of course, is the overarching variable.  None of this is particularly novel, and finding distinction is one of those amusing intrigues of life.  So it is a statement of fact, but it does work:  motivations are often assumed without being articulated, and perhaps some independent thought will be generated with the articulation.

Then there are those who are not ambitious at all; indeed, it appears to be most people.  These individuals will settle into the general narrative of their chosen community, which itself is a vacuum of consensus conditioned on race, religion, constructed history, and back-of-the-envelope politics.  If there is something of a ubiquitous rule across communities, it is a shared love for hedonism, materialism, with the subgroups beer drinking; insult-as-praise; fashion sycophantism; favorite television shows; sports obsession; and sex and relationships as centripetal force.  If there is a 21st century brotherhood of man, Facebook illuminates it:  the sports groups joined; the lurid slang tossed about in praise of one’s debaucherous exploits the night before; a friend’s quote on the transformative power of The Wire; posted party photos; Sex and the City quotes; exuberantly inebriated status messages.  These are all distinctly American, and represent the method by which one begins the slide into the American routine of marriage, offspring, garrulous dinner conversation, divorce, travel, senescence, and all the rest:  matriculation into a defined, rigid culture, assimilation of its norms and vocabulary.  Conclusions become premises—one thinks well of and performs conduct X because the community accepts conduct X as good conduct.

The ambitious share such interests as well, but they have been subordinated to some degree to career or intellect or creativity.  It is not entirely certain whether this is a better hierarchy on an individual case, but it is surely so on a broad scale.  It appears that most of the fine qualities humans have produced have been through the toil and effort of a few driven individuals, and so generally, it is better to strive and produce progress.  Whether it is better on an individual level, however, is deeply questionable.  The ambitious community accepts as its norms the incessant questioning of all of its held beliefs; its culture is not static, it is in perpetual challenge and change.  There is no ease of comfort in belief.  Furthermore, this questioning has largely resulted in the refutation of most axiomatic concepts and the steady erosion of humanity’s specialness in the cosmic space.  Made uneasy by this knowledge, the ambitious are slaves to their intellects, drives, creativity:  a ready out would be the hormonal, sensuous indulgence in Dionysian vice or detached Epicurean neutrality, but both demand a diminution of ambition.  So the ambitious often feel the effects of whiplash.  This condition is not likely to be resolved, if the words of elders are to be believed.

The key distinction between the ambitious and other Americans is ego, plainly.  The ambitious never quite lose that adolescent and collegiate sense of overextension; it simply becomes empirical.  Other Americans may think highly of themselves, but that is only within the gossipy context of their own communities.  There are fewer people to compare oneself there, and the standards are not selective—everyone, with an appropriate amount of effort, can reach them.  But for the ambitious, the standards are by nature selective.  An embedded condition of ambition is to gain a position that is available to few and hard to obtain.  Coupled with Western individualism, this makes for an acutely egotistical personality.

It is a forked game, then:  the non-ambitious begin on the path of community assimilation and the slide into middle age; the ambitious enter a disorienting, hyper-competitive world at the sacrifice of easy pleasure.  The actors have divided up unthinkingly and reflexively.  This has been the main action of the years out of college.  Symmetry demands proportionate outcomes for both individuals and the two at-large groups.  It is uncertain whether such elegance will be obtained, but it is clear that the movements of the past few years have been structural and almost unconscious, despite the open kvetching by all parties.

I think I actually handled it pretty well, so I thought I'd share in case anybody else was wondering how to handle this with such a young girl. (Apparently, it's not considered abnormally early unless menarche, i.e. the first period, happens before the age of 8.)

To that point, all she knew was that sometimes Mommy didn't want to go swimming, and when pressed about why, eventually mumbled something about a period. When pressed about what that was, I told them it was when you had blood "down there" for several days every four weeks.

So when I told her that what she had going on probably meant that she would be starting her period some time soon, so I wanted to talk to her about it so she wouldn't freak out the first time it happened. Her reaction? "Nooooo!"

I told her it wasn't so bad, and that in some cultures they celebrated and had special rituals. "Why would they do that??" she wondered, slightly horrified. I explained that when it happens for the first time, a girl becomes a woman, and can have babies. I quickly added that this was happening to her really early, and she's still a kid and shouldn't have babies until she's much older. Much much older. Like finished with high school and college and everything. Prie Dieux.

I also told her that she wouldn't actually be bleeding, even though it would look like blood. I said (moment of inspiration here):

You know how birds make a nest and line it with the softest stuff they can find to keep their eggs safe? Well, that's what your body will do. It'll make a nest inside your uterus every four weeks and put an egg in there in case you want to have a baby. When you don't have a baby, it cleans it all out to start over again for the next time.

She looked intrigued, so I figured I was doing all right. I went on to explain about pads and stuff, and gave her some panty liners to keep in her bathroom where she'd know where to find them, and told her to let me know when she needed something a little more heavy duty. Whew.

I was totally gratified when she said "I don't want to have a baby. How do I not have a baby?"

Gratified or not, my answer was pretty lame: "Just don't let any boys anywhere near your pee-pee and you'll be fine."

That got an even more gratifying "EWWWWWWW!!!"

(I'm really going to have to update to something a little more mature than "pee-pee," but I'm just not ready.)

Figuring that a lot of her friends probably wouldn't be in need of "The Talk" for a long time yet, I asked her not to talk to them about it. "Why not?"

"Well, would you rather learn about this stuff from your mom or from your friends?" I asked, holding my breath, not really sure what her answer would be.

"My Mom!" (Yes!)

Then, thinking of some of the poor girls whose moms can never quite bring themselves to have "The Talk" in time, I told her that if a friend was freaking out about it, to just let her know that it was all right, she wasn't dying or anything, and that she should talk to her mom about it.

So there you have it. The Talk for girls who are way too young to be having The Talk. I really hope this helps someone, because if my daughter ever knew I posted this she would probably kill me.