1. The fog was pretty cool. Ordinarily, a foggy day isn't really that great, because the fog is too far away to be anything but a blur on the horizon -- but when it's really foggy, like it was yesterday and last night, I enjoy it: it makes me feel like when you're on an airplane, flying through the clouds. It's great when weather is interesting without being dangerous, and fog isn't dangerous (unless you drive too fast, or unless it lets in all sorts of monsters that you'll have to fight in a grocery store.)2. I meant it as a compliment. Sweetie, after reading my post yesterday, was reminiscing a bit last night about all the other people who have remembered her, over the years -- literally, over the years. Sweetie indelibly imprints herself on people's minds, to the point where years later, they recognize her. I'm not making that up: we were in Minneapolis once, on a weekend getaway, and a guy who Sweetie had taught to swim when she was a lifeguard recognized her, about 15 years after he'd last seen her. We ran into a guy at church once, a guy who'd grown up in her hometown, and this guy reminded Sweetie not only that he'd grown up in her town, but that he'd seen her, about four years ago, in a grocery store (so now people are remembering when they happened to run into Sweetie years ago, too).
When I teased her about how much she enjoyed having that effect, Sweetie said "You make me sound conceited," and I said she was, but in a good way. I then maintained that it's not bad to be conceited if you're conceited for a good reason. I don't think Sweetie saw it that way, but, in my defense, when I made the comment, I was trying to wrestle pants onto Mr F so that we could go grocery shopping, and that was using up a lot of my mind- and muscle-power.
3. I already had the S'mores. Once we went grocery shopping, Mr F and Mr Bunches were, for the most part, very cooperative and mild-mannered, until near the end when we hit the snack food aisle, where we always pick up some S'more crackers - -they're Mr Bunches' favorites (he mispronounces the name as Spores). Mr F was riding in the cart and playing with his Holly Hobby dolls (which he'd brought along in lieu of the dinosaurs, this time) and Mr Bunches was distracted, walking along and looking at the other side of the aisle, as I put the Spores into the cart. We then advanced down the aisle, until Mr Bunches realized we'd passed the Spores, and, thinking that I'd skipped them, he laid down in protest and refused to go on, forcing me to pick him up and carry him to the cart to show him that we had the snacks.99 Down, 10,615 to go: I woke up this morning humming this song, for some reason. It's one I haven't listened to in a while but I like the background chorus, and I like the line "I'd cheat a priest just to get to you." It's Little Miss Pipe Dream by The Wombats:
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