I warn you: this won't even be a very cohesive entry.

M and I are going whale watching this Saturday! I'm a little nervous, being that I get seasick and everything. I'll inevitably be found carousing the drugstore this Friday night looking for possible anti-sickness remedies. I'm specifically going to look for a "patch" someone told me about, some adhesive contraption that can be worn behind the ear. I've also been told ginger will help. Hmmm, maybe I'll also be eating some sushi on Friday night!

With all this preparation, we'd better see some good whales.

Okay, Sabra, you asked for it! Here are some childhood memories, circa 1975:

The kindergarten I attended had a separate playground from the rest of the elementary school. I don't remember much about the playground, except that it had a jungle gym and some of those old semi-truck tires stacked up to form - I don't know - a mountain, maybe. What really stuck out in my mind, though, is the real-life size wooden wagon. This was often where Carrie and I played house with the cutest boy in the class, Jonathan. I'm sure I wasn't the only girl in the class that had a crush on him. In fact, Carrie and I used to argue over who got to be Jonathan's wife and who got stuck with being the baby. But that's beside the point.

When recess was over, our teacher would ring the bell and we were supposed to line up at the door. We'd have to stand there perfectly still and quiet before the teacher would let us back into the room.

I vividly remember one perfect sunny morning. Carrie and I were playing on the tire mountain. We were having so much fun that I didn't want to stop playing. I told Carrie I was going to hide before the bell rang so that I wouldn't have to go inside. Carrie decided to follow this plan, too. So we hid behind the shrubs alongside the classroom. As soon as the bell rang, however, Carrie chickened out and ran to get in line.

The teacher waited patiently while my classmates fell into line and became silent. I waited, breathless, behind the shrubs. I hoped that my teacher wouldn't notice that I was missing. After what seemed like an eternity, the teacher eventually led the class inside and shut the door. The playground was still and empty... and seemed strangely freakish without all my classmates. I resumed playing on the mountain but quickly became bored. Then I became worried. What would my teacher do when she found out I was still out there? I went to the classroom door and tried opening it. It was locked. Tentatively, I knocked on the door's window (although the window was too high for me to see into). My teacher opened the door and, not surprisingly, asked me what in the world I was still doing out there. I don't think I answered her... but I don't remember getting into trouble, either.

Time for bed. Next time: a memory from my nursery school days (i.e. 3 or 4 years old).