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.

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.

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.

You Can't Take Me Anywhere

I've been flying back-and-forth to Warroad MN to visit my parents on the Marvin Windows corporate propeller plane since May. It's fun and I feel fancy every time and I love getting there in an hour and 15 minutes vs driving 6.5 hours.

Last month and for the first time I got to ride their jet. No propellers. Leather buttery seats. Fancy fancy. Oh man it goes fast! The same exact trip takes 45 minutes. But let me tell you the take off is terrifying. I have never felt such speed in my entire life and I have ridden the fastest train on earth (Shanghai Maglev China). Anyway it goes one million miles an hour and you go straight up. STRAIGHT up. Seriously. When we got up to cruising altitude I turned to the woman next to me and asked her "are we in space?". I was seated across from her children (this jet had a four-seat-face-each-other-thing) and they giggled the entire time and that was the only reason I didn't bawl my eyes out from sheer terror.

But that's not the point of my story. The point of my story is that when I first got in the jet I noticed that same woman in the very very back of the plane with one of her kids. She looked like she was confused and didn't know if she wanted to sit way back there with him and I am nosey and so I already knew from eavesdropping that she was traveling with her husband, two little boys and giant pregnant belly (which was filled with twins as I was to find out later). So I stuck my nose in even further and offered to take the way back so she could sit in the four seat thing with her whole family. I smugly went to take my hero's position all the way in the back. (Seat change explained below). I am SUCH a good person. Ask anyone. I couldn't find the seat belt though? I searched and searched.

Then a man came and sat right across from me and we were sitting so close to each other that our knees were intertwined. Face-to-face. I was like, "oh man I hope I like this guy because this is AWK.WARD." He had a book which was a good sign just in case. But his seat for sure had a seat belt. I stood to look better for my seat belt, which meant he had to stand too to let me look and turn around and stuff. Finally it dawned on me that the seat was probably flipped down and I needed to flip it up to find the seat belt.

NOPE. TOILET.

Telecommuting, Redneck Style

My mom is in hospice, and so I have spent most of this summer at my parents' place up in Roosevelt MN. My company has been wonderful - they're allowing me to work remotely so that I can be with her. I brought my home office computer and two monitors and set them up in my old loft bedroom. I love it! I wear my overalls every day (and to bed) and work work work and sometimes I go down the ladder and vacuum, or do laundry, or get pills or make meals and it's been working really well.

Today I was on the phone with an insurance agent following up on a binder that I had ordered. My mom was downstairs with HER NURSE, talking about vitals and pain management and this weird pain in her head and could that be another tumor?

...when all of the sudden BANG!!!

My dad shot a squirrel. From inside the house.

I pretended nothing happened

Busted...

Left to Right: Kim, Kelly, Keri and Pete

This picture was taken the day my four oldest siblings got rubber band punching balloons. The best day ever, they tell me (I wasn't born yet).

Later Keri's turned up popped. She accused Pete.

My mom took Pete aside.

"Pete: did you pop Keri's balloon?"

"NO. But there's a knife in the sink."

Everybody REEL In

My mom has an old family fishing story starring my Auntie Cheryl.

My mom and Cheryl have five brothers and so anytime they went fishing with their dad there were boys around. And Grandpa Dick is a boy too. So one time Cheryl had to go pee and she refused to use the bucket to pee in and made her dad take her to shore.

"Everybody REEL IN, CHERYL has to go to the BATHROOM!!"

And that's our family quote for anytime you inconvenience others for your convenience.

But that's not the point of my story. 

The point of my story is that I went fishing with my dad and two of his friends the other night and I should have peed before we left the dock because I already had to go. But I didn't. So I suffered and fished for like three hours. Finally I realized I was going to have to pee in the boat and ask three men not to look.

But! We were in my dad's friend's boat! And I didn't even see it but there was a cabin under the deck! With a door that shuts! He let me go in there and pee into his little blue plastic fish rinsing bucket!

And you know how when you have to pee really really bad and so you pee for like 67 seconds and that 67 seconds feels like an eternity? It was one of those. I thought I was going to overflow the bucket - seriously. 

But I didn't. And then I took the walk of shame out of the cabin with my bucket of pee and very carefully and quickly dumped it over the edge and rinsed rinsed rinsed it a million times. I threw the bucket on the floor and resumed fishing.

...and nobody had to reel in.

But I had this to taunt me the rest of the night. The beating of the tell tale pee bucket.

It's lake water!!!! I swear!!!!

The Half Moon Treatment

Zach and I just got back from Oahu. While there, we walked about a mile to get from our hotel to our favorite beach spot. The quickest way was to walk along the beach but at some points the water line was right up against a hotel and so part of the way we had to walk along a pretty narrow sidewalk (pictured here). 

We walked with tubes and so it was a little awkward to traverse, and in some places it jams up with people cuz a giant turtle appears in the water below - anyway it's mostly single file. One day I was ahead of Zach in the single file walking, and we are in love, so I lowered my pants enough to give him the half moon treatment. 

When I turned around to laugh about it with him, he wasn't there. He's so sweet he let a tiny little demure Japanese woman and her husband pass him.

My Coat

We had been having some yo-yo weather in Minnesota and one day I grabbed a wool jacket to wear to work. Of course it warmed up mid-afternoon and so I forgot the jacket in the conference room (I had a very important business lady meeting there and I was running fashionably late so I didn't stop by my office prior to). 

The next day I asked the receptionist if anybody saw my jacket. Nope.

"Oh well, it will turn up."

Several days and maybe even a couple weeks went by. My friend Tara came into my office to tell me the story of how "somebody" had dropped a coat off in my other friend Alayet's cube. She was excited that somebody was giving her an article of clothing. She went on to tell Tara, though, that the coat had hairs on it and therefore was "dirty and disgusting" and "why would somebody give me this filthy coat?" Turns out somebody assumed since it was an XS that it was Alayet's (which is a compliment to me since she weighs about 87 pounds).

I told Tara that I forgot the jacket in the conference room and we laughed for 27 minutes.

I mean, "filthy"?

"Dirty"?

"Disgusting"?

Look how she drowns in it.

Kasey 'n' Kids

My sister Kasey has been driving the same crappy van for about 27 years. She loads up her three kids and all their crap and drives them around and it keeps on running and so she keeps on driving it. She found some letter stickers and instead of saying Ford Van or Chevy Van or whatever it is, now it says:

 "KASEY             'N'                 KIDS"

Kasey's not the best driver. She got her license later than most small-town teens, and then only out of necessity because I moved out of the house. 

Anyway -- the other day I met up with her for dinner and the two of us ended the night at our other sister Kelly's condo in a downtown St. Paul neighborhood, whose scant parking leaves visitors only a few options, one of which is using the assigned parking garage: an insanely difficult to navigate web of tight turns and concrete pillars.

I was following Kasey in my car. When it was her turn to enter the garage, I and another stranger in a different car watched in horror as Kasey's van jammed itself inexplicably into the wall to the right-hand side of the garage opening. 

...and we continued watching as Kasey simply shrugged her shoulders, punched and held the gas, forcing the van ever further into the garage -- taking the entire side of her van with it.

...leaving this beautiful heart-shaped mark. 

Misunderstanding

I got this text from my friend Laurissa who was vacationing in Greece:

Trendsetting

Hanna, the Engagement and Her Uncle Pete

So, Hanna got engaged. 

She's getting married in January to a very nice kid named Dan. I think they make a terrific pair and am happy for them and blah blah blah. But that's not the point of this story. 

The point of this story is that as soon as she accepted Dan's proposal, she started making phone calls to her aunties and uncles to share the happy news.

Here is a transcript of the conversation between Hanna and my brother, her Uncle Pete:

P: "Hello?"

H: "I'm engaged"

P: "Do you love him?"

H: "Yes."

P: "Did he buy you a ring?"

H: "Yes."

P: "Is he a good man?"

H: "Yes."

P: "Does he have a good job?"

H: "Yes."

P: "Can he take care of you?"
H: "Yes."

P: "Who is this?"

Chewing Gum

The resort where we stayed in Cancun had a fancy Italian restaurant where we ate most nights. After a long day of reading books and doing nothing on the beach, we'd all head up to our rooms, shower and meet back downstairs for a delicious meal and drinks. There were eleven of us, and so we had to be split up at two tables.

We wore our best dresses and drank wine and were very, very fancy.

Look how fancy!

After dinner the first night, I stood up to go and chat with the other table. We discussed what they ate and how good it was. An older man who worked at the restaurant came up to me and grabbed my arm and dragged me back to the table where I was sitting, to the spot where I was eating. He seemed very agitated when he said to me, "PLEASE DO NOT PUT YOUR GUM UNDER THE TABLE CLOTH." 

The staff were changing out the linens and sure enough, at my spot, under the table cloth was a piece of gum.

YOU GUYS. It was NOT MINE.

We were eating fancy! I would never put my gum under the tablecloth! It was seriously way up underneath, so whoever did it had to pull up three yards of fabric and shove it up under there, on the pad underneath. 

I said, "Sir, that's not mine."

He poked it and said, "FRESH."

I poked it. 

It was fresh. 

But you guys!!! It was NOT. MINE. I repeated myself. "Sir, I am telling you that gum is NOT MINE."

He was so disgusted with me and so finally I just shrugged my shoulders and walked away.

Does this look like somebody who just shoved GUM under her fancy tablecloth?

The story doesn't end here, unfortunately.

The next night, I was nervous to go back there, but I decided to get over myself and just do it. I sat down and out of the corner of my eye I noticed the man. Out of the corner of my other eye, I noticed one of my friends putting her gum on a little plate next to her dinner plate. I didn't have any time to warn her.

Here comes the waiter (not the same man, but he came straight from talking to the man). He handed her a paper napkin and said, "please put your gum in this paper napkin. And anyone else at this table *here he looked STRAIGHT AT ME* needs to put their gum in a paper napkin right now."

ENOUGH!

I threw my cloth napkin down on the table and half stood up to say to that poor innocent waiter, "OH FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!! I DID NOT PUT MY GUM IN THE TABLECLOTH! YOU TELL THAT MAN I DIDN'T DO IT! AND WILL YOU PLEASE ALSO TELL HIM I AM 37 YEARS OLD!!!!!"

He looked really hurt and said, "yes, I will tell him". 

And then he came back later to take our order and I said, "I'll have the seared tuna. With extra gum."

And then the poor innocent waiter said, "please. I am on your side."

And then I really felt bad. 

But for Pete's sake, can you imagine being accused of a heinous crime? Twice? When you were 100% innocent of it? Now I know how Cameron Todd Willingham felt.

Baffoon Bombs it on the Beach

In Cancun the water is pretty choppy and so in the swimming areas they have these great big giantic ropes so that if you start to get tired, or are swept out to sea you can grab onto one rather than trying to swim back to shore which won't work anyway and will probably kill you.

Anyway, one day I went for a run and happened upon a wedding just near a couple of the ropes. 

I jumped over the first one, turned toward the camera and threw my arms in the air in an attempt to photo-bomb a shot of the bride and groom.

Success! 

Hilarious!

BAM! 

...I forgot about the second rope and it got me right in the knees and I face planted in the sand. Hard.

That's whatcha get.

The "Renee"

I want to preface this post by stating that I don't think it's funny.

 

But at the same time it's so so so so so funny.

 

My mom wanted to go hat/scarf/wig shopping before she started her chemo, and so Kelly and Kasey and I scheduled a trip to the Mall of America. We started at Nordstrom and looked at every single hat and scarf in the place. It was really emotional, and the sales girl kept coming around every five minutes to see if we "found what we're looking for" and finally Kasey pulled her aside and said "will you please leave us alone? CANCER" and then she did. Sounds mean, but we were just trying not to cry, that's all.

 

Anyways, after we left Nordstrom we were in the hallway walking to the wig store and my mom stopped in her tracks. She started to hyperventilate. The four of us did a group hug and we cried and cried right there in the hallway. And then when my mom felt ready, we collected ourselves and continued on. It was awful.

 

And then we got about the business of wig shopping.

 

They had some really nice silver wigs and this is the one we settled on. The "Renee".

Perfect.

 

 

 

 

We asked the lady (and by lady I mean a 16-year-old girl) if we could try it on and she showed my mom how to stick both her thumbs in the front of the wig and instructed me to pull the back of the wig around to the back of her head.

 

Kelly was standing in front of my mom and so she was the first to see what it looked like. She burst out laughing. Like really hard. Immediately tears were running down her face. Still standing behind my mom, I scolded her silently. "KELLY", I mouthed. "STOP IT YOU JERK." I couldn't believe how she was behaving so soon after my mom broke down in the hallway and we all cried together. Kelly turned around and doubled over and kept laughing. She couldn't stop. "I'm sorry. Look." she could barely get out the words.

 

So I came around the front.

 

My mom had put the front of the wig way too far forward and so the wig hair was coming straight out of her eyebrows.

 

The "Renee"?

 

...more like The "Rod".

 

Oh, how we laughed.

Strangers Taking Photos

There are tons of pros to traveling alone, and a few cons as well. Biggest cons for me are:

• Trying to find somebody to watch your stuff for a quick bathroom break (usually there's no one and then you have to bring the whole kit and kaboodle into the stall with you:

 

• Getting a photo of yourself in the place where you are

 

This one's not always easy. I swear I invented the selfie a million years ago because I've been taking pictures of myself in front of stuff for like ever. But it doesn't always work and now the internet is oversaturated with selfies and so for me they have lost their charm. Obviously you can force a stranger to take a photo, but then you end up with this crap:

 

 

"Excuse me sir, will you take a picture of me in front of that mountain?"

 

 

Whoever Said It's The Journey, Not the Destination Had it Only Partly Right

 

 

If you want to get to the other side of the world, here is a little warning: It takes a long time. You will sleep for an hour at a stretch on the plane in a strange contortion of your body that is anything but comfortable. You will brush your teeth in the airport bathroom, and then wash out your armpits in the same sink. Your underwear will be very dirty and you will opt not to change them because the next pair are going to get just as dirty anyways. You will stand in one million lines behind one million idiots. The plane will shake and rumble and you will not grab Carol from Winona or Matthew from Melbourne or the husband of the lady from France's hand but you will want to, and you will give yourself permission to at the last minute when things get serious. You will put your passport back in your purse even though somebody will need to see it again in 30 seconds. You will ride a train all the way to gate D and then find out your plane leaves from gate B. You will make friends on that train with John and Tricia from Nashville, en route to Italy to stay for the 9th time with friends they made just by eating at their restaurant. You will make such good friends with them, in fact, that after the six minute train ride, you will hug them and he will kiss your cheek and they will wish you luck and tell you to be safe and you will say have fun! and you will wish you could see them again but you can't. You will ask the flight attendants to please let you go up and down the spiral staircase because you've never been on a double-decker airplane before and they will let you and then you remember that you totally have been on one, you think, with your sister Kim, but you can't be sure. Maybe you're just thinking of Snakes on a Plane. Some lady will cut the customs line in front of you and your eyebrows will raise because WHATS THE HURRY and then her husband will see your eyebrows raise and you will feel bad because WHATS THE BIG DEAL and then you will wave your hand GO AHEAD and then you will both laugh. You will put a sticker on the bandanna you brought to wipe sweat and catch sneezes but mainly to act as an eye mask on the plane and it will say "please wake me up for meal service". You will help Carol from Winona with her seatbelt, her headphones, her TV, the bathroom, and her Immigration card. You will choose the salmon bisque but only actually eat the mashed potatoes because you are a fake vegetarian but really you're just not hungry because WHAT TIME IS IT? You will watch Lucy, Edge of Tomorrow, and Boyhood and several episodes of 30 Rock and you will get mad when the captain interrupts any one of them to tell you something important in another language. You will decide that fine, you will watch Guardians of the Galaxy, but only because other people are watching it around you and WHATS THE DEAL WITH THE RACCOON but you will be too tired and you will fall asleep instead. You will read a half-chapter of your book at a time and then fall asleep and then put it down and not remember anything you read. Matthew from Melbourne will tell you about his severe nut allergy and how on the way to London he had to ride the plane connected to an oxygen tank for four hours and you'll feel bad that you made fun of his gluten free sandwich. "It's all they had for me", he'll say, and you'll selfishly take the two free seats between you but unselfishly put your head next to him and your butt far away because you're feeling gassy. You will ask strangers to watch your things while you go to the bathroom and you will hope for the best. You will be seen in this getup because you're going to Africa but the airplane is freezing, and you won't even be the slightest bit ashamed:

 

Your body will say, "wait a minute, where are we?!?" and refuse to poop after teasing you with feelings of having to poop. You will hold your head high because you are a seasoned traveler who carried on and it takes only seconds to get your shoes off and your liquids out and your suitcase up on the X-ray machine belt and this being in airports feels SO GOOD because you're GOING SOMEWHERE and you will laugh at yourself and your ego and dip your head a little because it was probably holding itself up too high. You will make jokes with every. single. person. you encounter but less than 6% of them will laugh or even get it but who cares, you're GOING SOMEWHERE! You will wish you had the courage to ask the men in Dubai who wear those beautiful white robe-dresses to the floor with beautiful checkered scarves on their heads for a picture but you don't because they're a culture, not a tourist attraction plus you're worried because you have ignorant prejudices about their opinions of women but later you wish you had gotten that photo anyways.

You will patiently wait until everybody gets their bags from the overhead compartments but HURRY UP ALREADY JEEZ and then finally you will get off the very last plane and you will want to kiss the ground but you don't because EW and then you will see this...:

 

 

 

...and you will cry a little because it's so good to be here and you're sleep-deprived and then you will arrogantly walk right by all of the people trying to get you to rent a car because you thought ahead and reserved one and the steering wheel will be on the right and the stick shift on the left and you will grind the gears in front of the man and you will hit the windshield wipers instead of the blinkers but who cares because YOU'RE HERE.

 

 

 

 

What the Heck is He Doing?

One day on the farm, a million years ago, my dad accidentally locked himself in the feed room of the barn. I guess the door to it weighed a ton and the old rusty lock was on the outside, and it somehow latched shut after him. He realized that he might be in trouble too because my mom would probably never go looking for him or wonder where he was to go and let him out. He tried yelling and screaming for her, to no avail. she was in the house. He started looking around the room to see if there was anything he could use to force the door open.

 

Nothing.

 

Quick side point: even though my dad is a mountain man and fearless and can wrestle a black bear with his bare hands while opening a beer, his Achilles heel is claustrophobia. Being stuck in a space and not being able to get out will start him to behave like a little girl.

 

He did find a red strip of cloth and a piece of wire, however. He rolled the strip of cloth around the wire tiny tiny tiny, and shoved it through the keyhole in the door. He waved it around and bobbed it up and down and waved it some more, hoping that my mom might see it. He almost gave up several times but decided to keep waving it around because, you know, it was his only hope of being discovered.

 

Meanwhile my mom was in the house. She saw a tiny wire coming out of a keyhole in the barn and then a red strip unraveling. Then she saw it waving around and bobbing up and down for a really long time. She watched, wondering, "What the heck is he doing now?" and kept on watching it, mesmerized.

 

Lots of time passed. Finally the phone rang and it was for my dad. She yelled out the back door for him. When he didn't come to the phone, she went outside to tell him to come and get the phone.

 

She figured out somehow that he was locked in the barn and when she let him out his face was beet red and his hands were in fists and oh boy was he mad. She didn't tell him right away about watching that flag the whole time.

 

These days.

 

 

 

 

Men! They're SO STUPID!

My sister Keri sent me the following text, accompanied by a photo:

I was ordering a couple of bras yesterday on the phone while Marc was present. Today these boxes arrived on our doorstep and Marc hollered to me "Keri I think your bras are here."

OOPS

Obama appointed Loretta Lynch as Attorney General and the local Minneapolis/St Paul Star Tribune printed the following headline: