Buena Suerte

I was recently visiting Ecuador, and decided one day to go for a giant walk around the city of Quito. It looked like it might rain, but maybe not, so I rolled up my raincoat as tiny as it could get and stuffed it into my fanny pack, which you may recall I single-handedly made cool again back in 2014. And now they're all the rage. But I digress. Stuffing my raincoat in there meant I could no longer fit my wallet, so I grabbed about $160 in cash and my AMEX card and set out. 

I knew that I ought to keep my wits about me while I meandered the city and for the most part I didn't encounter that many people. I found a park and found an adorable group of old men playing giant marbles. I mean there was probably a better name for it but from what I could tell they were throwing giant balls into a circle and trying to knock the other balls out. Suddenly they all left! but they were just walking to the next spot to throw the balls from. It was cute. I wanted to sit next to this guy for a while but I didn't know if the tree would break and that would have made me die of embarrassment so I didn't do it. 

After that I started walking toward the basilica and I felt relieved because 1) I had been there the day before and 2) I was excited to try the best sandwich shop in Quito according to my friend and 2b) I was starving.

I felt something hit the top of my head, kind of like a tickle, and I looked up and saw nothing. A woman behind me said, in broken English, "oh, a bird pooped on you". I was like UGH CRAP, but the woman had some tissues and she was sort of helping me wipe some of it out of my hair. Another older man came up too and offered his tissues. Apparently some of the poop got on my sweater too, which made me sad because it's my cute favorite sweater and it's cream colored and I spent way too much money on it. I was trying to stay positive and so I said in Spanish "well they say it's good luck when a bird poops on you". And the old man laughed. He said "yep! it's good luck!"

Then a kid (who I had seen earlier and who looked very local but was carrying a paper map which I thought was really weird) came up and started helping me too. He explained that the poop was all over the back of my sweater and helped me take it off so he could show it to me. Except I was wearing my fanny pack like Micah taught me to, cross body and on my back - so he had to take my purse off and hand it to me so that he could then help me with the sweater. The purse had poop on it too YUCK and so then the lady started wiping that. 

The kid showed me my sweater and it was COVERED in poop - I had to take a picture because I couldn't believe how ruined my sweater was and although I was so sad I also found it funny and I wanted to get a picture of it. 

They cleaned me up as best as their tiny tissues would allow and then all went their separate ways. It was only then that I had a little cry because I was SO HUNGRY and now I would have to get a cab back to my apartment AND find some laundry soap because there was none AND there was poop on the back of my pants too and I didn't want to get a cab all dirty. So I took my hands and sort of wiped down the back of my pants and when they felt dry I hailed a cab.

Safely in the back of the taxi, I got a text message from AMEX. Did I try to buy $2500 worth of furniture from a store in Ecuador? Uhhhh, no --- and probably somebody had stolen my card number at some point on this trip or whatever...how irritating, so I called AMEX back to tell them I had not. The customer service representative asked me for the code on the back of my card and so I went in my fanny pack to grab that and realized my card was gone. And my cash. 

I figured that stupid kid with the map must have nabbed my card and cash while he was taking my fanny pack off. Oh that made me sad, especially since I now had no way to pay the cab. I was still on the phone with the customer service agent and started crying AGAIN because nobody likes being robbed.

I explained to the cab driver that I would was robbed and would have to go up to my apartment to get my cash card and then hit the ATM in the base of my building. Then I explained the whole story about getting pooped on by a bird and then robbed to the doorman, and to the man in the elevator and oh boy was I laugh-crying the whole time. Then I walked to the store to get laundry soap and got back to my apartment and used dishsoap in the sink to spot clean the sweater. 

As I was examining the pants, and the sweater and finally had some distance and perspective I realized what kind of a pterodactyl must have pooped that amount of poop on me and then disappeared into thin air...because I never actually saw a bird and then googled "bird poop robbery Quito" and this came up.

They got me. Good luck, my ass.

en Espanol

You know how when you call any customer service line in the world and they say if you wanna hear it in Spanish you better press option two? But they say it in Spanish say they go "oh, prima dos?"

At least that is what I was certain they were saying "OH you know whatever you want, press two"

I am so dumb. OPRIMA is the verb for "press" --- I learned this from a Colombian elevator and Google translate.

New Year's Resolutions and other things that go Cream Ca...PUT

You know, I used to really really enjoy writing in this format and even achieved the goal of writing EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. one year. Unbelievably that was last a thing in my life in about 2016. We were so young then!

These days I share my musings on Instagram stories, which disappear after 24 hours which is such a blessing and also such a curse: a blessing because of my short attention span and a curse because I do love reading and re-reading myself because as you all know I'm definitely my biggest fan. 

ANYWAY I just spent 3 months in South America and just like every time I leave the United States and subsequently return to the United States I resolve to be a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT PERSON. I'm going to start writing letters, hugging children, rescuing kittens (but not allowing them in my house or anything - I just mean finding them under a dumpster and kindly bringing them to someone else who will have them in THEIR house), losing weight, being nicer to everyone, finally submitting that foster parent application to Hennepin County, etc. Consequently, I think it's time to dust off this old thing and start typing into the netherworld again my innermost thoughts and outermost embarrassing farts, etc.

You can make fun of me in two days when we all realize I go the way of 2019-2022 when I only wrote once about a freaking CREAM CAN.

The Cream Can

My dad and I ran down to the annual Roosevelt Flea Market to see what kind of junk we could find. Flea market shopping with my dad always reminds me of the time my mom said he came home with a lawn chair for $2 that had a $1 sticker on it. HA

Anyway we made our rounds and all the same vendors were there - people selling vintage stuff, stuff they made, etc. I found a very cool LADIES sign that would have fit perfectly into the cutout above my bathroom on the main floor but was listed for $275 so no thank you. 

We ran into lots of neighbors including Butch and Sandi Fish, and at one point somebody told my dad he better go check out the cream cans the old feller outside the barn had for sale. We had already been by there and nothing grabbed our attention but we went back to see what all the fuss was about. 

AND WOULDJA LOOKEE HERE:

This one used to belong to my Great Grandpa Peter Hexum, Roosevent Minn. The old feller said he wanted $100 but we got it for $60. And THEN we told him it's a family heirloom and we woulda paid $1000. Just kidding but kind of. 

So cool and so exciting and so happy it's back where it belongs on my dad's porch.

Obviously all of us kids are fighting over it. Pete thinks it's rightfully his because his name is right there on it, I think it's rightfully mine because I'm the one who coughed up the sixty bucks and my dad's brother Aaron seems to remember Grandpa whispering something on his death bed about bequeathing the cream can...

I sure hope our family survives this. 

Hal-isms, Vol. 74

"Stick to bein' a cop. Quit this kissin' stuff."

"You expect a lot outta people who aren't Norwegians."

"Whoa whoa whoa what's going on?"
** his phone rang

"I've seen this - the kids are dead the mom screams and screams 'madre dios' let's watch somthin' else."

"That was before when I used to get offended when people did me dirt."

Logic

All my life my parents never locked the doors to their house. I don't think I ever in my life had a key.

One day this summer my dad and I were leaving the house together and he locked up behind us. I looked at him funny and he goes, "when your mom was alive it was only half mine. Now it's ALL mine."

Coffee Talk

My dad's Keurig is on the fritz.

I suggested he might need a new one. He asked how much they are and I said, "I don't know? 30 bucks?"

Hal: "Wanna pay $15 each?"

Me: "no"

Hal: "Well, $15'd be easier for both of us."

Whattabooger

Somewhere in Eau Claire Wisconsin, a beautiful young professional woman (me) extends her delicate lady fingers out an open car window, lightly rubbing the middle and thumb together as if sifting through sand. Suddenly the wind picks up and carries her booger right back into the car.

She quickly looks at her husband to make sure he does not see. 

He is already laughing. 

Deathiversary

Today was my mom's one year Deathiversary. That is to say she died one year ago today. I haven't said that out loud on this blog yet because I've just had probably the worst year of my life and your mom dying is never funny. And I guess I only like to write about things that are funny. 

Well - I'm back Jerry! Here's something funny:

I woke up at 4am on this, the morning of my dear mother's deathiversary to myself literally crapping the bed. Pooping in the bed. Full-on diarrhea poop. No warning. I wasn't sick. I didn't eat anything weird. Poop.

I knew my siblings might appreciate the irony and also the poop story (we are an intelligent humor bunch, us). So I sent them all a quick text on the old Mass-textomy.

Enjoy!

Hal-isms, Vol. 73

"I don't know if you've noticed but I drive not violent. 'Non-violent driving' they call it."

 

"It's time I stopped dreaming young men's dreams. I need to start dreaming of sitting on the couch listening to the neighbors and watching Trump settle the world's affairs."

 

"I buy my eggs in twins."

 

"You try to help other people, and then YOU suffer. That's been my life."

 

"Kady. I can't keep up with this modern world."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Continuation of the Mass-Textomy

I met a very important milestone in my old lady life today - I had my first mammogram. Of course I had to text my siblings the joyous news.

Jerks.

Pineapples!

 

 

Have you ever seen how pineapples grow? It's SO COOL. I suppose I just thought they grew on trees like any good tropical fruit, but then on a trip to Samoa I got to see that they grow right out of the ground.

 

Insane.

 

 

These pictures are from Ponta del Gada Portugal, where they have a pineapple plantation. Really it was multiple greenhouses with about 2500 plants in each one.

 

I was ASTOUNDED to learn that it takes 18-24 months for one to grow. Did you know that you can also take the tops off of them, plant them, and then in just 24 short months you'll have a new, mini pineapple that you can eat?

 

Well you can.

 

 

 

It just feels like they should cost $25 and not $7 because of how long they take?

I mean?

Suitcase Goals

Sunday Favorites: Mills Fleet Farm

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to repost an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared on August 15, 2013:





My friends and I stopped at a Mills Fleet Farm on a recent girls' weekend trip, because, obviously. There was shopping to be done. I still needed some dark denim Wrangler farm girl jeans and some Cowboy boots. Because, obviously.

I tried on some other shoes, too:

I posted that picture on Facebook, because, obviously. Ten minutes later, I received a text from my little sister Kasey. She had apparently also just paid a visit to the old Fleet Farm:

Like a couple of freaking twins separated at birth who get reunited and show up to meet each other for the first time in the same freaking dress.

The Shape of My Fears

Last night when I got home I was alone and so I checked all the usual places for monsters in my house. The basement, the main floor shower, the upstairs shower, etc.

I found nothing, and so I crawled into bed with my dog and drifted off to ... and right before sleeping I realized that I didn't look under the bed.

OH GOD.

So I started thinking "what should I be scared of?" and the only thing that came up was the fish/guy from the movie the Shape of Water.

And then I laughed because that is not even sort of scary! And then I went to sleep.

And it's a good gosh darn thing my brain didn't go here:

Northwest Angle

My dad lives in the very way north of Minnesota, only a few miles from the Canadian Border crossing at Warroad. 

A short drive from there (as long as you have your passport), is the very northernmost part of the lower 48 states, the Angle Inlet aka the Northwest Angle. There was a cartographer's mistake like a million years ago when they were drawing the shape of the USA and so this tiny section, obviously originally intended to be "in Canada" instead was assigned "to Minnesota" and I'm glad too because it makes Minnesota look really cute at the top. But to get there you pretty much have to drive into Canada and then back into Minnesota - because ain't nobody got time to drive all the way there in a boat. 

Anyway, I had never been there. And on a 2017 trip to my parents' place, I fully planned to visit, (uninteresting detail to follow) but forgot my passport. So I made Zach FedEx it to me.

Crossing the border at Warroad is slightly confusing - there is a great big beautiful brand new giant building on the left hand side of the road and a big arrow and so I got confused and went in there, but sort of figured out as I was walking in the door that I was at the USA customs, and not the Canada customs and so in typical Kady style, I "HAHAHAHAHAHAAA THIS IS US CUSTOMS RIGHT? NOT CANADA? HAHAHAHAHAHAH OOPS can I use your bathroom?"

Then you drive up like you're going to Winnipeg, but take a hard right at a gas station that sells strange religious fiction novels and potato chips in flavors we don't have in the United States, for CANADIAN DOLLARS. 

And then you drive and drive and drive and drive until pretty soon it gets kind of scary because nobody's around and you're on a gravel road for about 30 miles but it takes a least an hour and then suddenly your car's antiquated map system indicates you're approaching the border again, this time back into Minnesota: 

And that's basically it - that's the "border". Just a blue sign saying: "WELCOME TO THE UNITED STATES, YOU ARE ENTERING ANGLE INLET, MINNESOTA."

From there it's an honor system thing. You're required by law to go to the "customs building", which  is basically just a videophone where you can either press "PUSH TO CALL [American flag]" or "PUSH TO CALL [Canadian flag]". 

I'm serious.

 

And then, you're in the Northwest Angle. It's a little town where a lot of people live (most of the license plates read North Dakota, interestingly enough.)

I drove around for a while and then found a little bar and had some Molson Canadian (obviously), chatted up the Native kid bartender, learned all about how he and his siblings attended Minnesota's only remaining one room schoolhouse, and about how, when the teacher mentioned in the article I just linked to retired for a time (or moved away I can't remember), they all had to ride a bus every day back and forth 75 miles to Warroad. 

Shiny black rocks along the shore

Minnesota's only remaining Public One-Room Schoolhouse

Solar Eclipse

Breaking news over here at A Lady Reveals Nothing. Did you know that the United States experienced a full and total Solar Eclipse on August 21, 2017? The path of totality landed somewhere in Missouri - way far south of here, but that didn't stop my cool mom from purchasing eclipse glasses from Amazon six weeks in advance of the event. 

Oh we waited with bated breath on the front porch every day as the Eclipse date approached. They weren't coming and they weren't coming. Mom went into her Amazon account every day and reported the updates ("nothin!", or "they're in Bemidji!" etc).

The day came but the glasses didn't. It turned out to be fine, since we had complete cloud cover. You can view my reporting on this, LIVE, here and here.

Anyway - after the hullabaloo was over, on that very day at 6:21pm, don't ya spose the UPS man showed up with our glasses?

6:21pm, 8/21/17

That's OK. We had fun with them. The following Monday we stared right at the sun!

Eclipse every Monday, right?

Baudette MN

When my mom went into the hospital, I ran to the local grocery store to grab lots of Doritos, cheese snacks, mixers for the alcohol we snuck in there, and tons of juicy gossip magazines. 

This is what was on offer:

and don't get excited about that VOGUE either. It was VOGUE Knitting

Just One of Many Times I Was Feeling Really Beautiful, BUT...

I've been using a Corporate plane to get up to see my Dad. Not my Corporate plane, mind you, but the Corporate plane of a well-known Minnesota Company that flies it's muckety-mucks from Warroad MN to Minneapolis MN and back on the daily and Lucky Me! They let any-old-Joe ride on this plane for a mere $100 donation to a local Warroad charity. (Bless 'em). My parents live 11 miles from the Warroad International Airport and I live 5 miles from the MSP. Only, these planes fly out of a tiny little airport located between MSP Airport Terminals 1 and 2 (otherwise known as Lindbergh and Hubert Humphrey). This little bitsy in-between airport is called "Signature Flights" and you have to call on a little phone from your car to get into a parking lot which leads to a smallish building but then after the building you can literally walk right onto your tiny little plane. There's no removal of liquids there's no taking off your shoes there's no seeing if there is liquid "medical marijuana" in your purse (even if you are a totally type A good girl who would never use such an  "illicit drug" but only secured it clandestinely from your hairdresser because she seemed like somebody who would know something about such things and also because your mom has cancer and she's dying and you will do anything including committing what you're pretty sure is a felony to ease her pain).

ANYWAY:

It feels so FANCY!

Imagine during the Super Bowl (!) - all those famous people (!) flying to this exact airport (!)- and though I've never seen a famous person there, I'm sure they have been and that makes me feel...really...really...famous myself. 

So, every time I go through there I sort of hold my head higher than I normally would (because normally I'm just a girl, picking a booger with her thumb). One particular time, however, and this time is the subject of this particular story, it was a Monday morning and it was 5:30 and I was the ONLY. PERSON. ON. THE. PLANE. 

FANCY!!!

So - imagine how I felt. Walking in to this exclusive airport - just having gotten off a PRIVATE. PLANE. Just me (!) and the pilots (!) 

And I was wearing my cute jeans and my cute down jacket that's only 18 years old but I bought it in Austria so, you know, it's pretty cute, and my slouchy beanie hat that all the cool girls wear and here I am, and people are LOOKING. 

They are flipping their heads around to see WHO IS THAT GIRL? and I feel so gorgeous and rich! and exclusive!

And then I went into the bathroom (the one with really really thick napkin-y hand towels in a basket). And:

It's no wonder they were staring.

Doppleganger

You ever been scrolling through a famous person's Instagram and found a picture of yourself? I mean, not really YOU, but like your doppleganger??

Check this out - doesn't that totally look like ME with Carrie Brownstein from Portlandia????!!!?

It's not me.