Simon and Stella and I roadtripped to Mama's house this weekend. We continued to work on the house (and I exclude Simon and Stella when I say we). I've inhaled so much paint, polyurethane, and bug bomb fumes, along with spackling dust, that it feels like a drum has been banged in my brain. I bet if you could see me right now I probably have these (( )) lingering near the sides of my head.
Yesterday I had two run ins. We had a family reunion as we do every Labor Day weekend and I ran into one of my great aunts. Imagine Blanche from the Golden Girls. Aunt Blanche, as I'll call her, has always been oddly critical of me for most of my adult life. Usually she hugs me whilst whispering, "Oh honey, you're so beautiful but you're so thin," or "Are you losing weight?" or "You really need to gain some weight". This has only bothered me once and even then it was so presumptuously characteristic of her that it was laughable. And it's one of those things that you just can't respond to because, well, what's the point? And I think there is some sort of rule about being respectful to your elders. The last year or so that I've seen her, she has managed to keep her mouth shut- and what a delight that's been! I thought that maybe it was because my weight was just right and she decided to stop being critical and we were turning over a new leaf. So when I saw her yesterday I had no worries that she would say anything about big or small I am. She hugged me sincerely and exclaimed, "Oh Ali with your boy haircut, how have you been?!"
The second run in has been a long time coming. As long as I've been driving I've never hit a deer. CB says I have bionic night vision because I quickly see them from out of nowhere. Last night I was driving and a deer run out in front of me. There was enough distance between us so that I could tap the brakes and slow down to about 35, as you always expect another to follow the first one. And, as expected, there it was. To my right side, a small deer ran into the side of my car. You read right, the deer hit me. There were two pretty loud thuds so I pulled over, expecting to see the deer posted to the side of my car like a sticky note or dragging from the bottom. But no deer was to be found and there was not a scratch on my car. I'm taking it to a shop on Monday just to make sure everything is okay. It felt like that episode of Seinfeld when Jerry breaks his record of not vomiting for several years. So maybe I'm good, maybe the inevitable hitting of the deer (or being hit by the deer) is done.
There's not much to do in the Hometown so if I need some amusement I usually read the local paper. Here are just a couple bits from last week's Standard Sentinel:
I'm not sure how well you can read this online but it basically says that the Sheriff was using a jail inmate as his personal yard boy and "party shed" builder. My favorite part reads, "In exchange for his work, the inmate enjoyed a 'cozy existence for a drug trafficker'. He spent nights in a trailer away from the jail, rode a four-wheeler around town, was taken out of the county on occassion to visit family and was permitted conjugal visits with his girlfriend, during which time he fathered a child with her."
And if you're looking for a dog that isn't a full bred...
Amid the announcements for reunions, fundraisers, and revivals (ours started today), there are fillers: little pieces of useless trivia and quotes by famous people.
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