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Sunday, November 28, 2004


What could be more pleasant than a 6 a.m. Sunday morning bath, a dazzling day in the making and Callas soaring from the bedroom speakers?

The bubbles are up to my armpit, which calls for careful reading of the NYT magazine if I'm not to pick thru the soggy remains over breakfast.

This week's seems to be almost entirely kid-centric, which means careful scrutinizing for later questioning later by #2 daughter, such as over the "Teenage Brain" lecture.

I turn to the must-read Language section and if it wasn't William Safire, I'd believe I was being kidded being asked to accept Kiduage.

Once past the headline, however, we're into the real stuff:

Here endeth today's lesson in talkin' proper and talking young.

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