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2005.08.15 Daily Dosa
2005.08.09 Invisible
2005.08.08 Towed
2005.08.03 Refill
2005.07.30 Sub Dub
2005.07.24 Rapid Fire
2005.07.24 Requested Speed
2005.07.20 Cart Before the Horse
2005.07.15 Ex Post Facto
2005.07.13 Ultimate Blog Filler
2005.07.11 The Terrorists
2005.07.10 Estamos en Vancouver
2005.07.10 Prostitute Corner
2005.07.08 If Cats Could Talk
2005.07.06 Wrecked
2005.07.05 Going Postal
2005.07.04 British Columbia 90210
2005.07.03 Quoth the Nascent Canadian,
2005.07.01 Exposed
2005.06.29 Stiffed
2005.06.29 Peer Pressure
2005.06.23 My iPod bends time!
2005.06.19 Google Map Tourism
2005.06.18 Lesbia's Sparrow is Dead
2005.06.14 Story Time, part 3
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The Terrorists
I talked to my parents Sunday afternoon.

They had just returned from a week-long trip to Sonoma Valley, California (their fourth? I think? trip to the California wine country), and were sort of getting settled back at home.

After a few minutes of "How was the trip?" and "When did you get back?" my mom suddenly asked, "Are you okay? I was so worried."

"Um, sure, I'm okay. Why? I've been a little sad this week, but that's it."

"Oh. When I heard about the bombings I thought of you."

"The ones in London?"

"Were you scared?"

"I don't live in London."

"But it was a transit bombing."

"In London. In England. Not Canada. No matter how often I use public transit."

"Yeah, well, I guess it's silly."

"Yeah, no attacks here, Mom. I promise."

I swear my mother is at least a little smarter than that. I guess it just goes to show how freaky all the Southerners are getting lately. . . .