Sunday, August 20, 2006

Off the Map

Pictured here is my breakfast that I decided was too lovely and righteous not to share.

It is with some sadness that I share any pictures, however, as my picture-taking self missed out on a major photo op this weekend. Satan and I traveled to the big city of Lexington to move his youngest son into the dorm at the University of Kentucky. I took my camera and FORGOT a photo stick.

Yah, I was not happy.

Still, I can report that said freshman is now settled in his (tiny) dorm room with as many comforts of home as possible. In fact, the entire endeavor would have been a raging success but for one small incident during which, in a traffic jam, consisting of approximately one million sweaty, annoyed college students and their parents, at high noon, with not a car moving in any direction, in the ninety-five plus degree heat, in the center of the UK Campus, Satan became agitated, leapt from our vehicle, stood on the CENTER LINE of the street and, gesturing wildly, and screeching at the top of his lungs, had some, let’s just say, less than complimentary comments to share with the entire assemblage about my, in his opinion, less than adequate map reading skills.

You might be thinking that this incident has the makings of a legendary marital smack-down, and normally you’d be right, except that I was laughing so hysterically at his outrageous behavior by this time, that I simply was unable to engage in battle. Also, I was wearing my new sparklies which, as you’re probably aware, often have the effect of magically draining the fight right out of a girl.

Ironically, as it turned out, the spot where Satan had his meltdown was actually within spitting distance of the dorm we were headed for and we were completely and absolutely on the right track to get there. A fact that Satan still has yet to acknowledge.

As you might imagine, I later shared this story with every single person we met during the remainder of the weekend (and a few strangers on the street) and with each telling of the story, Satan managed to interject more and more fictitious details about the (essentially nonexistent) role he played in navigating us to our destination.

The truth is that later, I went on to navigate us directly to our hotel as well as orchestrate a complicated directional rendezvous with Satan’s other son who met us mid-journey en-route from Louisville.

All this while essentially writing this entire blog entry in my head.

I’m tired.

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