How It Got Here I Haven't A Clue*

A month into his first year of college, Son-Three reports that one of his new college friends marked two milestones in one day. In the morning, this friend, JD, got his first tattoo--praying hands--at a local shop called The Pink Armadillo. That evening, he decided to drink alcohol for the first time--and ended up drinking until he was quite wasted.

So wasted in fact, he approached Son-Three and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "Dude, look at this, look at this. Someone drew hands on me! Who would do that? I'm totally going to get to the bottom of this."

Son-Three says, "JD, remember? You got that from The Pink Armadillo."

JD mulls this over for a second then says with amazement, "Dude--did you know pink armadillos could draw?!"

*From "Margaritaville," a song in which Jimmy Buffet commemorates a few of his own milestones such as looking for his lost shaker of salt, blowing out his flip-flop by stepping on a pop-top and, of course, the brand-new tattoo: "It's a real beauty, a Mexican cutie/How it got here I haven't a clue."

Let Her Out Once In A While To Get Some Air

Bumped into a former Shop Groupie at the grocery store two days in a row. She's an old friend of Cranky Boss Lady who dresses almost exclusively in various patterns of camouflage though she neither hunts nor was ever in the military. On seeing me the second day, she said, "You sure cruise these, uh, food places a lot."

"Yeah, that's how I keep my girlish figure," I said, while waving my hand to highlight my decidedly ungirlish shape.

Camo Lady raised an eyebrow. "Where do you keep her?"

Laughing, I said, "In a locker at home--it's the only place she's really safe."

"Yeah, I've had mine tucked away so long I'm not sure I remember where I left her."

"I used to take her out on special occasions--I guess it has been a while."

Happy To Do My Part

First day of school. Daughter-Only and I head out the door early--determined to get off on the right foot. Apparently, we're not the only ones. Traffic around the school is backed up through all the surrounding intersections--cars stopped at weird angles, people sitting through two or three lights halfway through the intersection, and so on.

Suddenly, I see our chronic lateness last year in a whole new light. I had thought I was disorganized and a failure as a parent for being unable to motivate my children to get out the door on time most days.

I see now I was merely playing an important role in reducing the morning traffic congestion around the school.

You're welcome.

I'll Take Potent Potables For $500, Alex

My current state of mind, revealed in text messages:

Little Sister: We have a bunch of lemons. Do you want them for lemonade?

MM: Sure--are these literal lemons or metaphorical lemons?

LS: I will just give you the literal ones and spare you my metaphorical ones. :)

MM: That sounds good. Despite what you may have heard, the metaphorical ones are often too sour to make a potable lemonade.

LS: Definitely! and bitter too.