I may never talk to another small child

I like children, especially small ones. My husband calls them OPC, for Other People's Children. I like to talk with them, flirt with them, play with them. Babies are wonderful. I am, of course, very aware of today's climate, and only connect when a parent is present and when it seems most likely that the overture will be acceptable. I don't give advice, and if I can't pay a compliment I make no comment at all.

Late Sunday afternoon my husband and I took our youngest son to the airport. He is spending this week in Northern Israel volunteering to help pick the harvest, and repair damages caused by the recent rocket attacks.

As we were waiting in the check-in line I noticed two adorable little girls, both wearing pink poufed dresses. They had ice blonde hair and looked about 3 and 5. I made a comment to the parents and the mom smiled. We saw the girls and their parents again when we got to the security line. By then our son was close to the scanner, and we were standing outside the barriers. The two little girls were standing right in front of us swinging on the ropes, and smiling up at us. I smiled back. Then the older one opened her mouth, and all my illusions shattered around me.

"Do you have a grandchild?"

I don't want to think that I look old enough to have a grandchild, even to a child young enough to be my grandchild!

The Who -- Any suggestions?

So does anyone have any thoughts as to how I can persuade my husband that I should leave the family thanksgiving weekend (inlaws, kids, daughter-in-law, etc.) early, and spend the Sabbath in Philadelphia with my youngest son so we can go to "The Who" concert at the Wachovia Center on Saturday night?

I didn't think so.... :-(

I don't suppose anyone has any inside knowledge on whether they are going to extend the tour to make a stop in the Washington area?

Think of water flowing past a rock in a stream

Now that the image is in your mind, let me give you the setup.

Saturday night four of us went to hear/see Rascal Flatts at Nissan. After the Alabama concert I had sworn I would never go back, but I guess I didn't swear hard enough. In addition, it was Saturday night and I couldn't walk out the door until 8:06 because of the Sabbath. The concert had started at 7:30, and even with a somewhat lead foot it can take 45 minutes to get there. My son and I were in the car by 8:07 and on the road. We got to Nissan almost exactly 40 minutes later, and then the problems started -- no parking.

I was asking an attendant where to park when I heard "Erica!" a very "happy" work colleague, BC, had just arrived with friends. My son hopped out of the car with them, and I went to find a park. I kept getting turn left, turn right, turn left, and kept turning into places where I couldn't park. Finally, there on my right was an opening in the barriers, and a car with some space to its right. Good. No signs not to park. I pulled in, and as I did so I heard the roar as the lights went down, and the music of the first song starting. I locked the car, and raced for the entrance. Please note what got left out of this operation. Contrary to my typical actions, I DID NOT identify where I had put the car. It was relatively close to the entrance, and I was sure I would identify it again, after all, there weren't any other cars around!

Fast forward about 90 minutes. They didn't play enough music, they did too much talking, but what they did do was terrific. The harmonies are excellent, and they have wonderful voices. They do a lot of a cappella singing, and I really enjoyed the concert. My son, daughter, and daughter's boyfriend were in no hurry to race back to the cars, so we sat at the entrance for a while talking. Then my daughter said she was thirsty and so we decided they would walk back to my car where I had some water. I confidently led the way to where I thought I had left the car -- UH OH -- no car.

For the next ten minutes the four of us wandered back and forth looking for the car. At one point my son left me with the key. Sooner than expected he shouted "I found" it. He couldn't have. There weren't any open spaces where he came from, just cars trying to leave. Of course you have probably figured out, there was my car -- stubbornly parked, facing in the wrong direction, in the middle of the exiting streams. The four of us could do nothing else but double over with laughter, but that explains the 'water flowing past the rock' image.

I can only imagine how many people were cursing me, silently and openly, while I laughed. Thanks to several wonderful drivers, I managed to get turned around, and pointing in the right direction. We were out of Nissan in less than 15 minutes once we found the car, and hopefully I will someday live down the fact the I a) parked on the road, and b) lost the car after I parked on the road, but I swear, it wasn't a road when I parked there!!