Many of my friends are having babies. As their arrival dates draw closer, the couples engage in a flurry of nest-feathering for their young. One of the biggest concerns is child-proofing the house. Child-proofing, like a NASA rocket launch, requires input from as many experts as can be found, vast sums of cash, a check list of encyclopedic proportions and an inescapable feeling that somehow you’ve overlooked something.
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I’d like to think I’m doing my part to care for endangered species. I haven’t clubbed any baby seals to death. I don’t have any ivory inlays on my deer rifle. And I faithfully open all mail from wildlife organizations and promptly place it in the recycle bin instead of just tossing it out with the regular trash. Still, the save-the-something flotsam and jetsam continue to fill my small mailbox, leaving the Victoria’s Secret catalogue unsecured and endangered on the table in the apartment building lobby. Why is this?
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Ed Grasso
For all those people who double-dog dared me to write. ArchivesCategories |