Even though I was not around for the 1950s, I’m enamoured with the period (maybe because I didn’t live through it). I love the designs of products made during that period, from cars and clothes to the packaging of everyday products. There’s something more innocent, not only about the period, but about the designs themselves. They are not trying to be so sleek and ergonomic and are rounder, softer and more organic. I ran across this great site for reproduction prints of 1950s advertisements. I especially love the bright beautiful prints of the cars. Tons and tons of images to choose from, and you can choose the size you would like.

Available at Plan 59.

I've decided the perfect song to sum up week one for me is "Nobody Told Me" by John Lennon.

I'm going to go watch the film If.... now. Netflix sent it to me since it was next on my queue. I've never heard of it until recently but seeing Malcom McDowell in something else from around the time he did A Clockwork Orange should be interesting.

• I watched some football tonight; Washington is ok. Syracuse sucks. I’m fairly certain that more people show up for Syracuse’s basketball games than football games. That’s sad, especially since they have such an awesome primary color.
• I find that I usually cheer for Washington to win; I still think that Ty Willingham got a raw deal at Notre Dame. Similarly it is nice to see the Charlie Weiss coached Irish get shellacked.
• Today I saw the license plate WONTIOD. Can you figure it out?
• The plate was approximately the only bright spot in my trip from NoVA to Charlottesville. It took me slightly more than 3 hours to travel slightly more than 100 miles.
• In other news, we start recruiting soon for work. It reminds me too much of frat-club recruitment for me to be excited. On the upside, however, we are not lying through our teeth.
• For further proof that “reality show” means “canned like spam,” read the quotes from the reality-turned-docu-series producer.

Kate writes in with three (3!!) BLM-related photos:

1. The first is just a hole, I know, but I saw the BLM (a groundhog) go into it. I was sitting in a friend’s backyard at a bbq in Charlottesville, Virginia when the sighting happened. I immediately rushed over to where the BLM was spotted and got down on the ground and crawled around under the neighbors back porch hoping to see it again. I didn’t. But here is a picture of its hole.

2. A a statue of a BLM that I saw in Portland, Oregon. Portland is known as “beaver nation” because the Oregon state athletic mascot is…the beaver. I’m not sure if this BLM statue has anything to do with that or not, but it was very pretty and definitely beaver-like.

3. Lastly, here is a wild duck that I saw in a marsh in Charleston, South Carolina. At first glance I think ducks are probably not beaver-like, but they do swim and thrive in similar kinds of habitats and, like beavers, have a waterproof skin covering. Plus, this duck was really nice looking.

Actually, it wasn't us, but our whole hosting provider went down for a good 2+ hours tonight. not good timing.

Anyway, registration will be open through tomorrow at the regular prices for all the procrastinators out there. Sorry about any inconvenience.

If you are a free agent, you probably won't know of your team assignment until Sunday.

I’m someone with few boundaries, which is probably not a good thing on a social level. However, my boundarilessness (word? why not!) manifests sometimes in being able to make connections among things that seem disparate. Some folks I work with would call that “alchemy” and simple mathematics would then say that if I can make chemical reactions in my own head, then imagine all the other reactions that can be created by knocking heads (and hearts) with others. Perhaps the synthesis of a new world.

I think that is what is happening in our day and age. The age of private thought gave way to the 90s age of expository autobiography, performance artists I used to follow like Karen Finley (pure genius) and Annie Sprinkle (completely insane), and the celebrity tell-alls about their rehab experiences. I rode the crest of that one, writing a one-woman show about women and body image called “Busy Being Beautiful,” which was pointed squarely at the complicated relationship I had with my father, and ultimately myself. I found through that experience, and other performance experiences, that the more personal I got, the more universal the experience appeared to be. I think a teacher in design school told me that once, but I didn’t believe her.

Lots of my expository, boundary-hopping navel-gazing writing and performances made me realize that the tree, while falling in the woods, does NOT make a sound until someone else hears it. I guess J.D. Salinger may feel otherwise, but, for me, the audience made the message come full circle, and led to more writing. The writing, and its witness, made for more writing.

In this regard, blogging has been kind of a natural for me as I have met minds and people online that I would otherwise not have met. And the small talk is eliminated — I meet them while talking about all that is near and dear to me (at that moment, anyway). But professional blogging is hard because things in my personal and professional life seem so related that separating them seems to defeat the purpose of the way I synthesize ideas. So, I opt for the personal blog and, in this particular post, will try, lamely, to speak to a revelation I am having about the “aha” connections I am having between participation in social networking technologies in both my personal and professional lives. For what it’s worth. Tree falling.

I recently posted about my discoveries regarding being a new Christian discovering the tense, and to me, inscrutable, relationship many Christians have with the issue of homosexuality. That post yielded interesting results.

I don’t get close to folks easily. So, although I am quite fond of the lion’s share of folks at my new church, I am also at arms distance with them in a lot of ways. I am conscious, in most contexts, that I’m a bit of an oddball. That blog post resulted in folks I had never even spoken with more than a couple of minutes coming up to me and hugging me at church last night. Folks telling me some deep secrets of their lives. Folks inviting me to lunch, wanting a ride home to talk. The minister’s wife telling me, very pointedly and angrily that I CANNOT LEAVE.

I didn’t blog about this issue to get folks to beg me to stay. I didn’t think of getting folks to do anything, really. I see much of what I do as leaving no footprint behind, as though my guardian angel rolls up the carpet behind me wherever I go so no one will see my mark anywhere. I had not intended to make a “mark,” but in the hearts of some folks, something happened with this little post. The non-homophobes at church appear to be coming out of the closet, and I’m feeling a new calling.

I’m not sure that a performance, which begs for “approval”, would have yielded this generous and thoughtful a response. The popular misconception that technology is depersonalizing the human exchange seems to have been stood on its ear. What may have happened was that, by eliminating the vulnerability of the face-to-face, more genuine feelings ideas were able to be shared.

Now, I would not extend that to online porn, adult chat and other substitutes for real experience. I’m talking about a new experience altogether: asynchronous communication with the world, emanating from a point in time selected by me, hitting others at points in time when they happen or seek to be there, and seeing what bounces back and is spawned as a result of the social risk.

We are working at my job on a grant for creating an environment for learning that is self-directed, iterative, and full of possibilities for these kinds of unanticipated alchemies. All to get to the sweet spot in the mind that characterizes that moment when something is learned, when transformation occurs.

I can’t get to that place, where the little British kids clap their hands in joy to the near-ecstatic chemical reaction, without trudging through all the subconscious soil of my complete mind, boundariless, from gays to Christ, bathroom stalls to baptism. It’s all one big thing in me, one big bubble theory of the messy ALL bouncing up against the other bubbles out there, sometimes merging, sometimes bouncing away.

And that’s why I can’t sustain a professional blog.

By David Swanson

If Ron Paul had been president for the past 6 years, a million more Iraqis would be alive, and another 4 million would not be refugees. The world would be a safer place, and Americans would have lost fewer freedoms.

today i am 40.

it has been a very mixed day.

i woke up with a splitting headache.

it got worse when i found out that a classmate of tashi's, along with her mother and sister, were killed yesterday in a tragic auto accident.

they simply stopped or slowed to make a left turn when a box truck rear ended them at full speed, pushing them into oncoming traffic where they were hit again by a van. the children were killed immediately and the mother was pronounced dead at the hospital. it is so terribly awful. i can't seem to throw the vision of it from my mind. i feel so much sorrow for the father. they were beautiful girls, a very sweet, smart, quiet family.

i don't think tashi has fully realized that her friend is gone. forever.

so i have been dealing with tears all day. and a headache. and catsmell. for some reason loki decided to go on a spray frenzy in my work room.

and i've been grouchy for like a week. i'm not sure, but it may have something to do with that venus retrograde?

i did have a delicious indian buffet lunch with my loves. and we did manage to get out of the house this evening. where else but downtown charlottesville do you get to see a rock band of tweens busking on the street?



despite all the blah, i feel like my new decade is off to a good start. i'm working part time for a great organization, learning skills that i will be able to carry into other areas of my life. i am, bit by bit, making things with my hands. i'm determined to carve out writing time for myself, time not spent on the blog, but on poetry. and i've begun a doula practice. my current lovely client is due any day now!!! and dan and tashi started a website for me. there will be a lot more added to it of course. tashi made the lovely windflower, and the little tike is my nephew, tucker.

and the cake, it was delicious:



the rotating wheel. swing up, swing down, but just keep on swingin'.

O. Casey Corr has a good run-down of what’s been going on at KUOW-FM in the wake of Ken Vincent’s surprise resignation. As Seattleites spend more time stuck in traffic, expect KUOW to do even better.

I’m one of those (annoying, pretentious) people who listen almost exlclusively to public radio (KUOW and KEXP), mostly because I can’t stand commercials while I’m driving (I also listen to podcasts, natch). There are definitely times when KUOW (and NPR in general) annoys me, but overall it’s my guy.

I sometimes tune in to right wing radio (to keep my game sharp), KIRO (when Goldy’s on Sunday nights), and Coast to Coast AM late at night when I’m driving home from somewhere, because it’s one of the most bizarre, beautiful community experiences left on 21st Century radio.

I tried listening to Air America for a while, but found that unless I was in the car for more than 20 minutes at a stretch (rare!), it wasn’t worth it.

My extremely subtle effort to register my annoyance with the City of Seattle’s bureaucracy through careful selection of postage stamps continued today. I got a parking ticket for parking in front of a curb ramp last week, which was annoyingly placed mid-block, and, even more annoyingly, apparently not a crime unitl last week. I’d been parking there for 3 years with no problem. You’d think they’d start with a warning.

But of course, I have no real case and no time to fight it, so I paid the ticket. Consider Darth Vader to be my extended middle finger to the arbitrary enforcement of parking rules in the Emerald City. But listen, Seattle, there’s a way you can make this right. Just build me a citywide monorail with my thirty-eight bucks and all is forgiven.

'Twas the night before race day and all through the town, yada yada.

Tomorrow is the Four Miler! Woo! And I am soooo crabby. I have had a cold, and haven't been able to really run or to swim all week, though I did do a LOT of walking. After work today, I braved packet pickup. This is a four mile race in a small city, and they need multiple people directing vehicular traffic at PACKET PICKUP. Yes, this is a big deal here. Almost 5% of the area's women run this race, by my estimation. Though I'm a native, this is my first time running this race. But oddly enough, it was this race that got me to run the marathon last year.

When Max was just 8 weeks old, I headed to the shop to get a new pair of running shoes. I had a crazy idea that I might run a half marathon. After all, I had 8 months, and IronMo was about to do her SECOND IronMan and had just qualified for Boston. While I was there, I asked about training programs, and Mark looked at my squishy, postpartum bod, and the baby in the carrier, and said, gee, the Four Miler program would be just perfect. And I was so mortally offended that someone would think that I needed to wake up early every single Saturday morning for 3 months just to go four little miles, that I immediately decided that yes, I absolutely MUST do a marathon. So I did. Simple as that.

Now please don't think that I am belittling anyone's accomplishment at running the Four Miler. I am not. And it is a big deal! Go, sisters!! But for me, with my crazy postpartum hormones, and my stubborn, Capricorn disposition, four miles just wasn't worth getting up early for. Go big or go home, right?

The irony in all this is that I *am* running it tomorrow, and I am nervous as all get out. I might not have been this nervous for Richmond last year. I'm so anxious about the crowded course, about trying to pace myself, and really doing my best, despite my recent injury and illness. And quite frankly, I'm nervous about the huge, rah-rah group of runners. While I like a little company on a run as much as anyone, I don't relish the thought of running with 2699 women who are having the culminating event of a very long journey. I like running for the same reason I like swimming - they are fake team sports. Like, if you're on, say, a field hockey team (which I was back in the day), you have to maintain a certain baseline level of good communication with your teammates. When you run or swim, you're all in it together, but for the most part you can just shut up and go to your happy place without inviting 2699 other women.

But, as always, go big or go home. So I'm going out tomorrow to break 42:00, a 10:30 pace. Wish me luck. And if you see me on the course, just keep right on going. I'll talk to you when I'm done running.

Lori hooked me up on StatCounter this week, a way for me to track visits to Jen on the Edge.

I was torn about this move. On the one hand, I was happy in my ignorance about who's reading my blog and how many of you are out there. On the other hand, I was insanely curious.

And then there's my obsessive nature. Would I spend time -- too much time -- tracking my stats and worrying if things are down one day? Would I try to push the humor if that is what seems to please people and not talk seriously about other matters? Would stories of my thrilling days running errands and cleaning toilets excite you and increase my numbers or bore you and send you packing?

But you know the old saw about curiosity killing the cat... So I got hooked up with StatCounter. It's all Lori's fault. I blame her.

(Just kidding Lori!)

I would like to announce right here and now that I am NOT obsessed over the statistics. Honestly. Really truly. I'm limiting my visits to once a day and trying not to read too much into anything.

That said, the statistics I can track are simply fascinating. And I'm the person who dropped a class in statistics in undergrad because it was so fucking boring.

I can see if you people are coming to me from other blogs, through Google searches (and what the searches are -- there are some FREAKS out there people -- just sayin'), or starting off with me (because you like me for some strange reason). I can see what countries, states, and cities are represented.

And here's the funny thing that's leading me to my point in a very tedious roundabout fashion: I live in Virginia. My blog is linked to a blog of bloggers who live in my hometown. Dozens of us. I am also a Virginia native with relatives all over the damn Commonwealth (that's fancy speak for "state" for those of you who live in non-fancy, non-pretentious states).

So I assumed that Virginia would be the largest source of my readers.

I assumed wrong.

FLORIDA is where about a THIRD of my readers live. I am not kidding.

And a big chunk of those people are coming from Winter Park. I don't know ANYONE in Winter Park. Pinky swear, I don't. I don't have a retired grandma who's begged her canasta and bingo friends to visit my blog so I'll feel loved.

I checked further and a bunch of you Florida people are coming to me from Blackbird. Now, I'm not a 100% certain about this, but I think I can say with about 90% accuracy that Blackbird doesn't live in or near Florida. But I could be wrong about that.

And then a bunch of you Florida people went on to Lori's blog, so you are obviously a fine group of people with excellent taste in jewelry. So many people, in fact, that Lori emailed me and wanted to know who in the hell I know in Florida.

(BTW, you ALL-- Floridians and everyone else -- should go shop at Lori's website. And, no, I don't get a mega discount if I refer people. But I do think we all are most worthy of original accessories that make us stand out in a crowd. Well, we women, that is. You male readers, however, would do well to buy your women some bling bling. Christmas is around the corner you know.)

But I digress.

As always.

Wait, where was I going with this?

Oh, yeah right. Got it now.

Sorry about that. Pete fixed White Russians for Happy Hour tonight.

Anyway, I checked the statistics tonight and looked at the states and countries from which my readers originate. I looked at some locations and knew exactly who the readers are -- like Aims, Linda, Jen, and Josie. Whenever someone leaves a comment, I make a point to read his/her blog to get to know him/her a little, so I thought I had a pretty good handle on the 17 people who read my blog. It turns out that the number is actually quite a bit higher and I don't know who most of you readers are.

To be specific, besides Florida, I have no idea who's reading me from Nebraska, Missouri, and Idaho -- to name a few.

Who are you people?

BECAUSE YOU PEOPLE AREN'T LEAVING COMMENTS.

Hint. Hint.

So please, pretty please satisfy my curiosity. Let me know who you are. We don't have to have a binding commitment or send Christmas cards or remember each other's birthday (well, you all should definitely remember mine), but we can at least know each other's names and where we live.

Because you should know by now that I am not patient, nor do I like mysteries, so this not knowing stuff is bugging the shit out of me, which means that I am most likely bugging the shit out of Pete as I pace around and wonder and wave my hands about and blather on about you Florida people.

I have really enjoyed meeting folks through my blog and other blogs and I'd like to know you.

So, drop me a comment or send an email to jenontheedge (at) yahoo (dot) com and say hi.

If anything, do it as an act of mercy for Pete.

I am more of a tracker than a planner. I keep notes on what we've done after the fact--usually weeks after. I just use the calendar on Outlook to show classes, playdates, Paramount Arts Education shows, and other activities. And I have my library's check-out history option turned on, for my card and the kids' cards. So every few weeks, I'll take out a small spiral-bound notebook and review the

Have you seen my scooter?

Piaggio Fly 50, cherry red...stolen from in front of my house the night before last (Aug. 29). VIN is ZAPC446B874000444. I know it's a long shot, but if anyone happens to come across it, I'd be enormously grateful if you'd give me a call (220-1095). Thanks!

p.s. also stolen were two Fulmer "Hombre" half-helmets, black w/cherry on side:

The bottle babies have grown and are now just over 8 weeks old and over 2 pounds in weight.

Hyacinth is a white and tiger female with a beauty spot on her nose pad. She loves wrestling with her sister and brother, especially her brother who looks alot like she does.

Velcro is a white and tiger male with a pink nose. He enjoys wrestling and playing with his littermates and snuggling. He loves to be held.

Daisy is the brown tiger female.

Jeff and I returned these three energetic snuggly kittens to the CASPCA main shelter today.

Update 9/1/07: Daisy was adopted already! She was at the shelter less than 24 hours before being adopted by a very nice family. She will need to be spayed before they can take her home so she will stay at the shelter with her brother and sister for just a few more days.

This is the foster kitten that seemed to have the power to bend me to his will. That look. I felt the bond forming but had to resist. I am glad I did because I am thrilled with the outcome.

Cafe au lait Cashmiere (named by his rescuers) was adopted today by two wonderful people who are closely associated with the people who rescued him as a tiny kitten. Jeff and I enjoyed raising this baby. Now we and the group who saved this little boy’s life by bringing him to the CASPCA will be able to hear how he is doing and see pictures of him as he grows.

Two unrelated (yet related) news items from the past couple of days:

* New Census Bureau report shows that 36.5 million Americans were living in poverty in 2006 — 5 million more than six years before. Poverty line for a family of 5 is $24,130.

* White House Press Secretary Tony Snow, who has a wife and 3 kids, resigns his position because he says his family can't afford to live on his salary of $168,000/year. Tony Snow currently earns 7 times the poverty level for a family of 5...and still supposedly can't get by.

Draw your own conclusions.

It was one year ago that real estate attorney Duane Zobrist was appointed to the planning commission by White Hall Supervisor David Wyant. Now Zobrist has given Wyant a jaw-dropping $10,000 campaign contribution, doubling the size of Wyant’s campaign coffers. The Daily Progress is reporting that story today (though Chris Graham at the Augusta Free Press broke the story several weeks ago), raising the question of whether there’s a relationship between the nomination and the contribution. Wyant, a Republican, is facing stiff competition in the form of Democrat Ann Huckle Mallek, and $10,000 is the sort of money that will make or break a candidate for BoS.

The central issue in the race is development — Wyant favors increased development in Crozet, while Mallek wants to limit growth. Though Zobrist’s line of work has presumably spurred his generosity, the appearance of impropriety is hard to ignore.

Emerging from a Pavilion on the Lawn a little before 2pm today, Virginia Senator John Warner, with his third wife Jeanne Vander Myde and a cluster of aides, circled the Rotunda and descended the front steps to a podium where he announced his retirement after 30 years as a U.S. Senator, the second […]

A special prosecutor finds that Albemarle police Sergeant Pamela Greenwood did not violate any laws in the death of pedestrian Jesus Tolentino Dominguez two months ago and will not face criminal charges.
Fluvanna Commonwealth’s Attorney Jeff Haislip, left, oversaw the investigation that cleared Greenwood, who had been on administrative leave and just returned to […]

I had a very interesting conversation today with Ben Martin, the new “Director of Communications and New Media” at the Virginia Association of REALTORS. Ben was one of the first people I met through Facebook. He is a really nice guy who writes a really cool blog of his own.

What makes Ben cool is not that he is a Certified Association Executive, or that he writes his own blog; what makes him cool is that he works for VAR, which means he works for me– sort of.  After speaking with Ben, I can say that I am genuinely excited about what is on the horizon at VAR.  Ben is trying to increase the exposure of blogging, social networking, and technology in general, to the membership.  Any headway that can be made on this issue is beneficial to REALTORS and consumers alike, and it is long overdue.

Ben has some pretty cool things planned for the future, and hopefully I will be able to help him out and talk about my experiences here.  Stay tuned. . .

Technorati Tags: real estate, realtor, charlottesville, virginia, VAR, facebook, social networking, facebook, linkedin

I am not speaking ill of the dead. I’m simply offering a bit of advice for the living.

On August 30, 2007 at 8:53 p.m., a fatality accident occurred on Stony Point Road. A Yamaha R1 motorcycle lost control in a curve while traveling at what police think may have been a higher rate of speed than that for which the curve is posted, struck a guardrail and threw the helmeted rider. The rider later died.

Police identified the rider as Gabriel Ryan Dean, 25, of Charlottesville.

My respects to Mr. Dean’s family and friends. It’s hard when another rider goes down. Unfortunately, Mr. Dean’s accident is not a rarity in the cycling world. Other than at intersections where cars pull in front of us—and I swear they try to kill us on purpose—the most common fatal accident for motorcyclists is the bike going off the road in the curve. It can be at a slow speed, at the posted limit or at high speed and still be fatal.

Here’s the technique for doing it right: As you come up on the curve and well before it, slow using both brakes and downshift, if necessary into a lower gear. Look all the way through the curve, as far as you can see, and as you enter the curve start to roll on the throttle. Keep looking, keeping rolling. If you feel like you’re going to fast, hold the throttle steady and push down on the handgrip in the inside of the turn (turning right? push on the right). What ever you do, do not brake. It will make the bike stand up. Do not look anywhere but through the curve or your bike will want to go there.

Most important: Slow Down Before the Curve.

I’m sorry, Mr. Dean. I share your love of the bike and the ride.

My footpegs are down if you want to come along.
.

On Friday, August 31, Senator John Warner announced he would not seek a sixth term in the U.S. Senate. He made his comments from the steps of the Rotunda at the University of Virginia.

Special thanks to the University of Virginia for providing the audio for this event. Read more at the Hook’s website as well as on The New Dominion.

Teachers: Learn about evidence-based practices! Join more than 20 renowned presenters for the annual fall conference of the Division for Learning Disabilities. Steve Graham, Karen Harris, Margo Mastropieri and Tom Scruggs, Rollanda O’Connor, Susan Osborne, Mitch Yell, and many others will hold workshops on teaching methods and other topics relevant for those who work directly [...]

We’re going to war.

Charlottesville’s own Monticello Guard is on its way to Iraq.

The members of Company A, 3rd Battalion, 116th Infantry, 29th Infantry Division of the Virginia National Guard finished their training in Mississippi a few weeks ago and spent a week on leave, visiting family and taking a break before heading off today for the Big Sandbox. That is, of course, all unofficial as it’s a troop movement and troop movements are not generally talked about by higher ups, but it’s been confirmed by People Who Know.”

Trust me on that.

This means that our brothers, fathers, nephews, cousins and even daughters, mothers and nieces are going to spend the better part of a year trying to help establish enough stability in the chaotic country to give democracy and peace a chance. Whether you’re for or against the Iraq War doesn’t matter right now. Our People are there and it’s up to us to support them, not by telling them how they should come home now but by sending them tidbits of American life here at home.

“I just got back from Iraq,” said a Person Who Knows. “When you’re there it’s great to hear any piece of news from home. It really makes a difference.”

So go ahead and e-mail me stories about the first Virginia football game of the year or the new Hayabusa you just bought or how that pecan pie you baked rocked the Casbah. I’ll pass them on to People Who Know” so that the members of Alpha Company know we’re thinking about them.

Ever Forward!

Anahad O'Connor, in his August 28, 2007 "Really?" column in the New York Times, explains it all for you.

Short story shorter: Don't worry about it.

Here's the Times piece.

The Claim: Swallowed Gum Takes a Long Time to Digest

The Facts: For generations, parents have told their children never to swallow chewing gum, lest it sit undigested for days, weeks or even years.

This is, for the most part, an old wives’ tale. Swallowed chewing gum typically passes through the digestive tract without harm and is eliminated at the same rate as other foods.

But rare complications can occur. The medical literature contains several case reports of people, mostly small children, who developed intestinal obstructions because they had a habit of swallowing their gum. A 1998 study in the journal Pediatrics, for example, described three children who came to a clinic with intestinal pain, constipation and other symptoms, and were found to have small masses of chewing gum in their guts. One was a 4-year-old boy who “always swallowed his gum after chewing five to seven pieces each day.” Another was a 4-year-old girl.

Three other studies, including one in The American Journal of Diseases of Children, describe similar cases. In most, the young patients were fine after removal of the obstructions. The phenomenon is rare, the studies noted. But they might also serve as a cautionary tale for the parents of small children, particularly those with a strong fondness for gum.

The Bottom Line: Chewing gum is typically digested without harm, though rare complications can occur.

....................

Ah, yes, the photo up top, which accompanied the 1998 article in Pediatrics: its caption reads, "Four coins stuck in gum lodged in esophagus" — of a 1-1/2-year-old girl.

Okay then, after that tidbit, who's in the mood to explore the original literature with me?

Let's start with the abstract of the 1998 paper in Pediatrics cited above.

Chewing Gum Bezoars of the Gastrointestinal Tract

Children have chewed gum since the Stone Age. Black lumps of prehistoric tar with human tooth impressions have been found in Northern Europe dating from ~7000 BC (Middle Stone Age) to 2000 BC (Bronze Age). The bite impressions suggest that most chewers were between 6 and 15 years of age. The Greeks chewed resin from the mastic tree (mastic gum). North American Indians chewed spruce gum. The first manufacturing patent for chewing gum was issued in 1869 for a natural gum, chicle, derived from the Sopadilla tree, indigenous to Central America. Chewing gum sold today is a mixture of natural and synthetic gums and resins, with added color and flavor sweetened with corn syrup and sugar. Chewing gum is big business. A significant amount of the $21 billion US candy industry sales is from chewing gums, many of which appeal almost exclusively to children. Despite the history and prevalence of gum chewing, the medical literature contains very little information about the adverse effects of chewing gum. In the present report, we briefly review gum-chewing complications and describe three children who developed intestinal tract and esophageal obstruction as a consequence of swallowing gum.

....................

Isn't "bezoar" a great word?

I've loved it since I first happened on it in pathology in my second year of medical school.

Great back story, too.

There are many types of bezoars, for example:

• Trichobezoars

• Phytobezoars

• Trichophytobezoars

• Pharmacobezoars

Reminds me of all the great shrimp dishes Forrest Gump's buddy Bubba fantasized about.

But I digress.

Here's a link to the entire Pediatrics article abstracted above, for those who simply can't stop chewing on this topic.