Doin' The Dog

We hit the H.M.S. Beagle last weekend as well. We'd hit it more often, like maybe on a weekly basis, if it wasn't all the way to Parkville.



If I had the means, I'd probably end up just buying the whole damn store. It'd be easier than selecting just what I wanted. This time, though, purchases were limited to two packs of Estes B6-0 motors, and those only because they're discontinued. I love direct-staging, and time was when Estes made booster motors in pretty much every impulse range, but these days it's C and D only. Pitiful. So I'll either build some small two-stage rockets or barter these with other rocket nerds for something I want worse.





Em discovered the book section, falling in love with, of all things, a physics handbook. She could probably navigate it, too, if she decided to. This is the kid who taught me where my gastrocnemius was back when she was in Kindergarten. She read the Mayo Clinic book to put herself to sleep back then, for real. And much to my surprise, the gastrocnemius is not part of the digestive system.



Mo had fun visiting the guys, pestered me to buy her a frog. But I'd bought her a rubber chicken at Moon Marble the day before, and the chicken turned out to be full of microbeads. I learned this when Mo worried the chicken apart and got microbeads all over the kitchen. Not cute.



The one thing that does kind of irritate me about the H.M.S. Beagle, and it's understandable given its name, is it's hostility to religion. It's not over the top, but you can't help but notice the 'skeptic' oriented literature. And by skeptical, I don't mean in the sense that I'm a skeptic (I take my kids to church, and it's a fairly fundamentalist church, though I can't say I believe in God; for that matter, I visit a chiropractor on a regular basis even though I'm fairly certain there's no such thing as a 'subluxation'). I mean 'skeptic' in the sense of actual religious intolerance, a sort of madly bigoted, militant atheism. Like I say, given the name of the store...