brainylady

Hit me with a rolled-up newspaper

What the hell is the deal with all these flies? Bill and I are sitting outside our on porch right now -- he's working, I'm knitting and reading blogs -- because even though it's a hot day, this is a shady spot and there is a rare breeze. But there are a gazillion flies, and they keep landing on me! Is my flesh decomposing? Do I have poop on my arms? Why are they landing on me?!

We went on a little road trip yesterday just to get out of the house. We drove up to Grand Bend, which is tourist town on Lake Huron that has the most ice cream shops I've ever seen on a three-block strip. The best part was the batting cages. I've never done this before, but people in movies seem to have fun in batting cages, so I bought a token to have twenty softballs lobbed at me. And I hit most of them! (If you know me at all, you'll appreciate how shocking this is.) (If you were on my softball team when I was fourteen, you'll be rolling on the floor laughing.)

On our way to Grand Bend, we stopped in a couple of teeny towns, because teeny towns have the best thrift shops. I bought four plates at two different thrifts; I collect hotel- and dinerware, and it's become near impossible to find this stuff anymore at Value Villages and Sally Anns. But the local thrift in Ailsa Craig? No problemo, and just ten cents apiece! We had lunch at a Chinese food restaurant in a town called Parkhill. I got a fortune cookie that instead turned out to be a proverb cookie: "It's better to have a hen tomorrow than an egg today." (Nipper just wrote about "fortune" cookies, too.)

Bea and Mooky say, "Our heads are all blurry! Hee hee hee! Hey, Sharphead, look at our blurry heads!"