Socrates will have to go one without me. I think there are some questions for which we are never meant to have answers. Like the amount of calories and saturated fat in a chimichanga. We just were not meant to know. It bums me out. (But really, did anyone actually expect for a deep fried burrito covered in sour cream with a side of cheese to be healthy?)
And it seems that my well thought out questions will not be answered by a group (unless you count a room full of Fabricated Americans, both Differently Powered and others a group. Actually that sounds like fun. I might do that. ) tonight.
The good stuff:
I went over to my grandmother’s house to celebrate her birthday. She turned 91 on October 25. One of my cousins hosted a celebration. It was great, too much excellent food, lots of little kids running around and general mayhem.
The best part was when I went to say hello to my grandmother she hugged me, took a look at me and said, “You’re pretty.” Then she kissed my cheek and hands.
After the party I headed across town where this happened
It happened somewhere on 287 South as I was headed towards Arlington. I’m just grateful that I had time to pull over before something extreme happened. Of course I came to a stop on a bed of fire ants and the only place to stop was at the embankment in front of a haunted house, but other than sheer frustration and exhaustion, I’m fine.
Really, I wish that I was making the haunted house part up, but that, combined with the fire ants and the tire and the snow globe of crummy that is surrounding me these days, no one would believe it.
you will notice that it is conveniently located next to a thickly vegetated embankment, the perfect spot to dispose of my corpse and any identification related thereto. (I wasn’t really afraid, I just wanted to use the word “Thereto.”