Better question: Where was I?
I know. That was a tricky one. I flew out Sunday for a whirlwind work-related trip. The highlight: A visit to this lady
's house, where I got to meet such a sweet little bunny, who hopped to the door with a big toothless smile and chocolate on her face. What a cutie pie! I hope my three crazy girlies will be so delightful when they hit the big old 5.0. (The secret, I suspect, is that the little bunny has such lovely parents, who so warmly welcomed this stranger (in inappropriate shoes) on their doorstep -- and even fed her bacon pizza.)
It's a funny thing to read somebody's blog and think, oh wow, she's so witty! and smart! and thoughtful about the world that she lives in -- and then actually meet them in person and think -- well yes, I was right.
Anyhoo, to recap, I went to Nebraska wearing my red huaraches. I meant to bring my Clark Artisan sandals as well. I forgot.
But everybody in Nebraska was so very nice that I think they didn't notice. Either that or they figured I was some kind of East Coast hippie who thought it appropriate to wear bright red Mexican sandals at ALL TIMES. (I also forgot my deodorant, which probably didn't do much to dissuade said impression.)
What else? I saw prairie grass. And corn fields. I did not eat a locally famous cabbage burger, but I did devour homemade tres leches cake with confetti jello on the side. I went 36 hours without eating a single fruit or vegetable, unless you count tomato sauce. (Reagan would. I would not.) I gained four pounds. (How is that possible??) I met one darling 5 year old (see above), and a whole classroom of darling 4-year-olds. Said one little fellow who sported a whiff of cologne and a thin gold bracelet: "I'm Giovanni. I'm funny."
All in all, I was feeling pretty good about Nebraska until I got on the plane ride home and ended up sitting next to a lunatic old lady wearing five shirts (at least three of them spotted with yogurt??) who talked my ear off for nearly 3 hours. She told me, more or less, that she didn't like immigrants. But I do! And not just for the cake. Native-born Americans are hardly clamoring to work the kill floor at her local meat-packing plant, I pointed out. Then I couldn't hear her, mumble mumble, "of course the Jews owned it."
What?? I exclaimed. "Well, it was a kosher plant, so of course the Jews owned it," she explained. Hmm. She went to the bathroom for a long time. (A heroin addict??) But once back, she immediately launched into national politics. She loves Sarah Palin. She's so straight-forward! So personable! "You're not having her over for dinner!" I shouted.
"I have to take a nap," I said calmly.
I close my eyes. She tugs my sleeve. Seriously! "But what about the 190,000 Iraqis dead because of this stupid war?" she asks.
Two hours later, I find out she's really from Iowa.
The girlies were delighted when I returned. Margaret says, "Mommmmmy! Mommymommymommy!" Josephine giggle giggles and bit my shoulder. And Lucy sat me down in the big chair for a quick read and snuggle.