After we hit the Beagle Saturday, we wandered down to Sunrise Soap. This used to be the local soap shop for us, but they left so a chocolatier could occupy a tiny shot in our little downtown. They left us for Parkville, a smart move since groups of women don't tend to think of Gardner as a shopping destination. The overhead is higher, but you get what you pay for.
Parkville, for the uninitiated is what Aspen would look like if you knocked the Rocky Mountains down to the level of Dick Chaney's integrity or Barrack Obama's wisdom. No skiing, but if you want a bunch of rich hippies it'll save you a ten hour drive.
So anyway, Em had been hollering at her sister all day. But I'm used to that. Especially when I'm death-marching her through things like the Spinach Festival. She's pissed off at me, but she knows I'm not going to have it, so she takes it out on her sister. Not that I'll have that, either, but more often than not she forgets that detail.
What she kept hollering at Mo about this time was 'biting' herself. 'Stop biting your fingers!' I'd hear from the back seat, to which I'd say, 'Stop nagging your sister!'
Then in the soap shop, there was a cracking sound and Mo produced a tooth. She spent the rest of the day inspiring her sister to scream about how she was worrying the empty spot where the tooth used to be. 'You're going to make it bleed!'
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