Rachel S. Heslin
Thoughts, insights, and mindless blather

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This time last year, when Shawn and I were driving around one night, it seemed like every other house had at least one light-up reindeer in its front yard. Shawn got a wicked glint in his eyes and, dropping into a southern drawl, said, "Time to get out mah taser -- looks like it's huntin' season!"

Favorite 1st grade school assignment posted on wall in hallway at work: "My country is special because I have a puppy."

Except for some isolated ice patches, snow's just about all melted at valley level. Surrounding mountains still have some white. We need more.

Finished wrapping the last of Shawn's presents. Had a heckuva time finding two of them, one of which I couldn't even remember what I'd gotten until I'd gone to bed last night. Finding one of them required my actually climbing into the closet in the spare bedroom -- not that it was in the closet, as I'd thought, but, when climbing out again, I saw it on the table nearby.

Sadly, that's not my only instance of recent airheadedness. I bought two storage bins at KMart last night, and it wasn't until I'd run a couple more errands that I realized I'd forgotten to get the lids to the bins.


Shawn discovered I really was pregnant last week. Prior to that, I'd shown him my tummy when I was lying down, because I could really feel it sticking out like that, but apparently it didn't look like much to Shawn. Then, the other night, he saw me standing in profile while getting ready for bed, and his jaw dropped. Yep, the bun is definitely baking. I lost another pair of jeans to the Maybe Someday It'll Fit Again bin yesterday.

Although it makes sense, I hadn't previously given much thought to the fact that I seem to have misplaced my bellybutton. I used to have one -- it wasn't nearly as impressive a lint holder as, say, Shawn's, but it was definitely an "innie." I wonder if my stomach is going to act like one of those pop-up thermometers that tells you when dinner's done.

(inspired by the Defense of Marriage Act and similar idiocy)

President Josiah Bartlet
(in response to the Biblical injunction against homosexuality):

Chapter and verse. I wanted to ask you a couple of questions while I have you here. I'm interested in selling my youngest daughter into slavery as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. She's a Georgetown sophomore, speaks fluent Italian, always cleared the table when it was her turn. What would a good price for her be?
While thinking about that, can I ask another? My Chief of Staff Leo McGarry insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly says he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself or is it OK to call the police?
Here's one that's really important because we've got a lot of sports fans in this town: touching the skin of a dead pig makes one unclean. Leviticus 11:7. If they promise to wear gloves, can the Washington Redskins still play football? Can Notre Dame? Can West Point?
Does the whole town really have to be together to stone my brother John for planting different crops side by side? Can I burn my mother in a small family gathering for wearing garments made from two different threads? Think about those questions, would you?
-- "The West Wing"

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