Jo,
> ... it's up to each person to pick and choose what he wants on his
>plate.


Kirt,
> If one plate threatens to hurt another plate the situation is a little >bit
> different, no?

Liza,
GenieBoy (my better half)'s teeny tiny little short but ferocious
nobody-bother-me Italian Mom would often throw plates. When she would
start to look a little dangerous, GenieBoy and his Dad would get smart
fast and RUN (not walk, definately run) from the table (and out and down
the street if it was looking really bad). (GenieBoy's Dad ("Big Gene")
was an amateur boxer, and a pro baseball player). But GenieBoy's two
sisters, younger but much braver, would pick up their own plates and
hurl them back at their Mom. There was a lot of screaming, and LOTS of
spaghetti (a cooked starch) on the walls. Everybody in the whole
neighborhood and the whole world loved and leaned on GenieBoy's Mom.

I'm not sure what the point of this tidbit is.

Love, Liza

[log in to unmask] (Liza May)