Morning dips
We were apparently the only ones who took the "let's all meet at the reception hall at 7am to set up" comment seriously, so we wasted a little time at the Coralville Reservoir.
Back in the IC
Hanging out at our old house in Iowa City.
Karma upswing
Boarded in an window exit row seat with my carry-on still in my possession and cookies and an Elle to tide me over until I can fire up the first season of Chuck. Also, slightly mulleted businessman in a peach polo next to me - you can bet HE won't be starting up any conversations over South Dakota.
These are the people in your neighborhood
The crack shoes showed up a week ago, their nylon sheen glinting as they carelessly twirled. The nice officer told me that their being an indicator of drug activity is an urban legend, but I'd like to see him laugh it off if they appeared on HIS corner.
Then on Sunday I woke to find the back gate bell slashed from the latch.
Aaand I'm back to taking a kitchen knife when I go down to the basement to do laundry. At least Rye taught me how to hold it blade forward/upward (i.e., the opposite of how they do it in horror movies).
The first LTW
At the tender age of seven, my father decided that Lynwood wasn't a cool enough name and rechristened himself Oscar. He holds the 10k road race record for 52-year-olds in Tennessee. He makes the best spaghetti sauce in the world (the trick is honey). When his mother had to be moved to a nursing home, he visited her every night for six years until the day she died, and I am not even kidding. He taught me how to suck-siphon gas out of the truck's tank to fill the lawn mower, how to touch type and program in BASIC, and that you have to roll with the punches in a bureaucracy. In short, I'm lucky that my one-week-old cousin Laura Kelly was in a good mood the day he went to visit her, or otherwise he wouldn't have thought, "Hm, that's a pretty cute baby. Maybe I want one of those."
The devil you know.