EXCELLENT post, Pete!
G.W.
You know during this excellent lead discussion I was remembering being five and living in an old farmhouse. I remember the taste of the paint on the windowsill next to my bed as I looked out at the night wishing it were cooler and listening to the far away sounds of the steam trains and the cars on the highway winding through the gears. (Not common sounds any more!) It was kind of a dirty sweet taste. Glad now it was dirty since it made me not want to lick it.