I was always afraid of the water. Around my 9th or 10th birthday my mother decided that I was going to learn how to swim. She took me to the pool, walked me to the deep end and told me we weren't leaving until I jumped in and swam to the shallow end. No questions. After testing her resolve (i.e. much kicking and screaming) I jumped in and feverishly paddled my way to the shallow end.
Seven years later, shortly after receiving my drivers license, Dad decides I need a car of my own. He takes me to a friend of his selling an old Mazda. We get there, he pays the man and I get in my new car. Dad says to follow him home. 25 miles through the city. I look down and see this strange third peddle. "What's this?" I ask. Dad leans his head in the car and says, "It's called a clutch. You push it in to change gears [points to stick shift]. Let it out slowly to make the car go. Now follow me home."
So yesterday Atrios emails me asking if I want to fill in for a few days. [After picking myself up off the floor] I say, "sure." Then he sends me a link to blogger.com and says, "Jump in and swim to the shallow end." No, wait, that was Mom. He said, "Now follow me home." No, no, that wasn't it. Well, it was something like that. I was too busy doing the Happy Snoopy dance to notice.
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