Scrabble, anyone?

I would like to announce to anyone who cares, which is probably no one actually, but I'm going to announce it anyway, that I recently beat my friend Rebecca in a game of Facebook Scrabble. Why am I announcing this? Does it sound like I'm bragging? Basking in glory at someone else's expense? Let me explain. Rebecca and I have played probably 20 games of Scrabble in the past few months. And I NEVER win. Seriously, never. Generally, she beats me by more than 100 points. I not only lose; I lose humiliatingly. In the beginning, I tried to justify these losses by saying things like, "Well, there's really a lot of luck involved in Scrabble. I just get terrible letters." Seth was the first to point out the error in this thinking. "Face it, Mom. She's just way better than you."

As I've mentioned in other posts, Seth tells it like it is. He's right. Rebecca is way better than I am at Scrabble. Sometimes when I'm right in the middle of a frustrating game, losing miserably, knowing that I can't catch up no matter what I do, Gerald will ask, "Why do you keep playing with her???" Here's the answer: Because she is my friend. She is a friend from the distant past. About 20 years ago we both lived in a little town on the Columbia Gorge called The Dalles, Oregon. Rebecca (or Becky, as she was back then) was probably my best friend during the time we lived there. Much has changed in both our lives in the past 20 years. She moved. I moved. She had a child who is now 14. I had three more children who are now 19, 17, and 10. She finished graduate school in theology and became a pastor. I continued in my "career" of raising five children. We lost touch. Thanks to Facebook, we reconnected. And now, it's Scrabble that brings us together.

So even though I lose, and lose, and lose, and lose, I don't care. I'm thankful to have this connection with her, my good friend from so long ago. It makes me smile.

Oh, and by the way, in case you forgot, in our most recent game, like just the other day??

I WON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Randomness

Randomness. Is that a word? The spell check did not pick it up, so it must be. Is it okay to be random sometimes, to not have a clear focus for a blog post, but simply have several very different things to say all at the same time? I hope so, because that is the situation today.

First, I am super excited because Luke is coming home tonight for a 4-day visit. I plan to go to Indiana in October, but after this week, Luke's dad and brothers may not see him again until Christmas, so I'm glad they will have some good time together now.

Second, I'm also super excited because Celeste is coming to Billings this weekend too. And not only that, she's bringing her four beautiful daughters, including 5-week-old Noelle Elise (http://itslegs.blogspot.com/2010_06_01_archive.html). No, I'm not kidding. Noelle will be right here in my house. Have I mentioned how much I love babies, especially brand new ones? Can I just say right now that my "empty arms syndrome" is flaring up, and I can hardly wait to hold this little girl?

Third, and entirely unrelated to the about two items (this is called "Randomness" remember?), I am in need of an editor for this blog, and you are hereby appointed. By "you" I mean everyone who reads it. I abhor writing errors of any kind, but like everyone else, I cannot edit my own writing effectively. The human brain is the most amazing organism; when we proofread our own writing, no matter what is says on the computer screen or even on the printed page, we read it exactly the way we intended it. Ack! It is so maddening. We read right over skipped words, duplicated words, incorrect use of homonyms, spelling errors, and every other typographical glitch. I tell my students never to hand me a paper that has not been carefully proofread by someone else. Then, in total hypocrisy, I publish blog posts all the time that only I have read. Why? I don't have an editor available. Then I go back and read the posts later and cringe at all the errors. Fortunately, errors are easy to correct, but still, I don't want them here in the first place. So welcome to your new role! If you see an error in a post, please, I am begging you, message me right away. I want to know! I will not be hurt or offended. In fact, I'll be overjoyed and beyond appreciative. Thank you in advance!

Fourth, I need to say that I am really missing Lindsey a lot. For those of you who don't know, she and her family moved to Rexburg, Idaho five days ago. This is a tremendous opportunity for them; David can go back to school, and they can be united again after a year of ridiculously erratic schedules. So I'm trying to be brave. Really I am. But I miss her. So far I haven't been able to go by her house (which is right across the street from mine) without getting teary. My only solace is I will get to see her a week from Saturday when we drive through Rexburg on our way to Salt Lake City, en route to Costa Rica.

Which brings me to my fifth random thought for the day: Costa Rica! When we began to plan this trip, it seemed far in the future, but alas, it's almost here. In less than two weeks, I'll be basking in the sunshine on the beautiful beaches of Santa Teresa, eating scrumptious seafood, zip-lining through the canopy of the rain forest, and listening to Gerald practice his Spanish with the natives. Ahhh!

Lastly, I saw a Facebook status I liked, so I thought I'd share it. We all have folks in our lives who, for whatever reason, don't like us or don't treat us especially well. Keep in mind the following: "You may not like me, but Jesus thinks I'm to die for."

There you have it, some randomness just for you. I hope your day is lovely!

Sunday-worthy Recipes

Some of you may remember a two-line conversation I had recently with Seth. I believe I posted it as my status on Facebook. It went like this:

Me (in desperation): Seth, why won't you eat anything I cook?

Seth: Because you're a terrible cook.

Those of you who are familiar with 10-year-olds may not be too surprised by this answer. If 10-year-olds are anything, they are honest. Especially boys. You don't have to wonder what they're really thinking. No worries that they will sugar-coat their ideas in order to be diplomatic or tactful. Nope. Ten-year-olds tell it like it is, and Seth is a classic.

So yeah, to be writing a blog post about recipes seems....uh...what's the word I want? Wrong? No, that's a bit strong. Hypocritical? Maybe a little, but that's not really it either. It feels odd, strange, like it goes against the grain of my very personality. On the other hand, because of my lack of culinary ability, I am indeed constantly seeking simple recipes that I might be able to cook. And if they are Sunday worthy, well all the better.

I guess I should define Sunday worthy. Those of us who are LDS go to church for three hours on Sunday. I don't know about people of other faiths, but maybe they're in church about that long too (?) or maybe not. Anyway, when we come home from that 3-hour block, we are positively famished. What IS it about church that makes human beings so hungry? Seriously, I know we can go three hours without eating on other days, right? But on Sunday, we get home and we want to eat. Now. Not in half an hour. Now! So a Sunday-worthy recipe is one that cooks while you are at church and is ready to eat the moment you enter the house. Okay, maybe you need ten minutes to prepare some rice on the side or a vegetable, but essentially, the dinner is done.

Last week, Shulamith sent me such a recipe, and I posted it as part of my blog "Again? Seriously?" (http://itslegs.blogspot.com/2010/07/again-seriously.html). That post was the impetus for several other recipes to follow from good friends who love me and want me to be able to cook things my family will eat, especially on Sunday. Thank you Shulamith, Susie, Lindsey, and Diane. Thanks in advance to Silvia and Elisa, who both say more recipes are coming! I decided to post them here in order to have them all in one place for my future reference and also to share them with all of you.

French Dip Sandwiches (from Shulamith)

1 packet Italian salad dressing mix (I finally got this right, Patty!)
1 packet au jus sauce mix
1 beef roast

Combine Italian salad dressing mix with au jus sauce mix in a crock pot with 2 cups water, and stir with whisk. Put roast in crock pot. Cook on low for several hours. Shred meat apart and place on hoagie rolls. Sauce in crock pot makes delicious dip for sandwiches.


Sherried Beef (from Susie)

2 cans cream of mushroom soup
1/2 packet dry onion soup mix
1/2 soup can cooking sherry
1 pound stew meat

Stir above ingredients together in 3-4 quart baking dish. Susie says it won't be pretty, and it's okay. There will be lumps, and it's okay. Whew. I'd be nervous, so I'm thankful she warned me.

Add 1 pound of stew meat, and stir it up again. Cover baking dish, and cook at 325 degrees for 3 hours, the exact amount of time you are at church. When you get home, uncover dish, and stir it all up again. Serve over rice or noodles.


Salsa Chicken (from Diane)

Chicken breasts (fresh or frozen)
1 jar salsa
1 can corn, drained
1 can black beans, drained and rinsed

Put chicken breasts in crock pot. Cover with salsa. Cook on high for four hours. Shred chicken. Add corn and beans and stir. Serve with cheese in flour tortillas


Shredded Beef (also from Diane)

1 boneless beef roast
1 jar of sliced peperoncini (I don't know what that is, but I'm sure Diane will tell me)
1 package Italian seasoning
1 can beef broth

Place roast in crock pot. Sprinkle seasoning over roast. Cover with peperoncini. Pour beef broth over that. Cook 4 - 5 hours. Shred meat. Serve with barbecue sauce on rolls, or use as filling for tacos or burritos.

Chicken Tacos (from Lindsey)

Chicken breasts (fresh or frozen)
2 cans El Pato Mexican Tomato Sauce (bright yellow can located near other tomato sauce)
pepper

Put chicken breasts in crock pot. Cover with El Pato tomato sauce. Add some pepper. Cook 4 - 5 hours. Shred. Fill taco shells with shredded meat, and add refried beans, corn, cheese, and any other taco ingredients you like.

There you have it, five amazing Sunday-worthy recipes. There should be even more to come, so stay tuned.

And for the record, I'm still the same person you know. I have not been kidnapped and replaced with a woman who enjoys cooking and talking about recipes. I promise. I'll go right back to doing the things I like to do: giving talks, teaching lessons, working out, editing papers, walking, running, traveling, and writing blog posts on subjects other than cooking. However, we all need to eat. Especially on Sundays. In fact, some of us live to eat! So I'm grateful for these new recipes to try and for those who sent them. You are much appreciated.

Ah, this just in. Another recipe! This one from Elisa, a dessert because everyone wants dessert on Sunday, right? And it takes only a few minutes to prepare.

Mousse in Almost a Minute (from Elisa)

1 bar (7 oz) Hershey's Symphony Creamy Milk Chocolate (Elisa says you MUST get the Symphony kind)
2 C. heavy whipping cream, whipped (Does that mean I can't use Cool Whip?)

In a small saucepan, melt chocolate over low heat. Cool. Gradually add melted chocolate to whipped cream. Eat.

It's Not Love

When Shulamith and Mathew and I were smack in the middle of the 6-week whirlwind of planning their wedding, it seemed like every time I turned around, there was something I needed to pay for. Well, let's be honest. It didn't seem like that; it was like that. Weddings cost money, lots of it, no matter how frugal you are (they were extremely frugal). So each time we discovered something else that needed to be paid for, I would look at Shulamith and say, "It's okay. I have unlimited money!" This joke sort of caught on, even with others. Sometimes as we discovered new expenses, Shulamith or Gerald or Lindsey or even Seth would say, "It's okay. You have unlimited money!" Of course that wasn't, and isn't, the case, but it definitely taught us to put the whole idea of money in its proper place and perspective.

Lately, I've altered that expression somewhat. Instead of saying, "I have unlimited money," I say "It's only money." And that is absolutely true.

It's only money. It's an economic unit of trade that we use to negotiate our way though this very human experience. It's necessary, yes. It needs to be handled responsibly, yes. But it isn't on the same level as anything that really matters. Giving it too much importance has caused a plethora of problems throughout history and has led people to lie, cheat, steal, and even commit suicide or murder. It has caused people to compromise their very integrity as human beings. Can it possibly be worth it? I don't think so.

It's only money.

It's not love.

It's not health.

It's not family.

It's not the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

It's not anything that truly matters. The expression "You can't take it with you" couldn't be more true. What can we take with us when we leave this world? We are told in the scriptures that we can take any intelligence we have gathered along the way, and we can take our precious family relationships. No mention whatsoever of money. None. I often think of this when we are investing so heavily in our children's college educations. We are investing in something that lasts.

The other day we learned that the recent hailstorm (http://itslegs.blogspot.com/2010/06/sometimes-god-calms-storm.html) damaged our roof beyond repair. The insurance adjuster will recommend total replacement. That means we get a brand new roof! It also means that while homeowners' insurance will cover most of it, there's still this tiny thing called a deductible. Which happens to be $1,000. I have our budget mapped out for summer, and no, $1,000 toward a new roof was not part of it. Not at all. I will need to figure out a way to squeeze that in somewhere because, well, we need a new roof, and if we want to sell our house next year, we have to get one.

One thousand dollars is a sizable chunk, no doubt, but then again, it's only money. It comes and goes as easily as the wind and hail that damaged our roof. One hundred years from now, or even ten, or even two, no one will even remember this $1,000.

It's only money. It's not love, or health, or family, or the Gospel. It's not anything that lasts or matters in the long-run.

Again? Seriously?

I have a woefully limited set of natural skills. You can count on one hand minus at least a couple fingers the things I do really well.

Cooking is certainly not one of them.

I should point out, however, that no one in our family has starved to death, at least not yet. Before we moved to Billings, Gerald did most of the cooking, so maybe that's why everyone is still alive? Here, his job requires him to work 3 pm to midnight, so preparing the evening meal is left to me. We're still not starving, but to be perfectly honest, that is mostly thanks to such lovely establishments as McDonald's, Wendy's, Arby's, and Taco Bell.

Thinking I should really cook at home more, I am always searching for decent recipes that are truly simple. And when I say simple, I mean it. More times than I care to remember, I've attempted to cook something because a well-meaning friend (unaware of my total lack of cooking skill) has assured me how "easy" it is, only to find a complicated set of instructions way beyond my ability, and the result is, well, use your imagination.

Recently, Shulamith gave me a new recipe. She, better than anyone, understands what I mean by "simple." Confident I would be able to do it, I was stoked. All you have to do is put a package of Italian seasoning mix and a package of au jus sauce mix into a crock pot with two cups of water and stir it up. Then you put in a beef roast and cook it on low for several hours. When it's done, you have meat for french dip sandwiches and tasty au jus sauce for dipping. What could be simpler? Even I should be able to handle this, right?

Eager, I got up this morning and followed the above instructions exactly. We were to host the sister missionaries for dinner this evening, and I would actually have something good to feed them. (They have endured some of my not-so-good meals in the past, and I hoped to at least partially redeem myself today). However, at church this morning, they told me they needed to reschedule due to several appointments and a baptism this evening. This turned out to be most providential.

We arrived home from church at around 2:30 to find....okay take a guess....alright I'll just tell you: NO POWER.

Again? Seriously?

In the past three months we have lost power in our neighborhood on four different occasions. Once was on Father's Day when we had the hailstorm and tornado, so yeah, I suppose a power outage would be expected. But the other three times were just like today. No storm. No rain. No wind. NO POWER! And I'm not talking about a little flicker, enough to make the clocks blink. I'm talking about no electricity for several hours. What is up with this?

My first thought, of course, was for my roast, my lovely roast that was on its way to becoming yummy french dip sandwiches. Fortunately, the crock pot was still hot, so once I was convinced the power wasn't coming back any time soon, I put the meat and sauce in the fridge (which, of course, also wasn't working, but this seemed a better idea than leaving it out), and hoped for the best. Quite hungry by this point, we headed out to Applebee's. Yes, I know it's Sunday, but we were hungry, and I really didn't have anything that could be prepared without electricity.

An hour or so later, we returned home to find our power restored. Woo hoo! I promptly removed my roast and sauce from the fridge, put everything back into the crock pot, and let it cook for another four hours. By then, we were hungry again, so at 9:00 p.m., it was time for the moment of truth.

Are you ready? Are you sitting on the edge of your seats just waiting for the result of this nearly- thwarted cooking endeavor?

The sandwiches were delicious. Really. And the sauce? Even better! Way yum. I can now add one more recipe to my tiny repertoire. So a big thank you goes to Shulamith, and also maybe to Matt's mom (from whom I think she got the recipe?). We loved it!

As for this string of power outages, blah. Double blah. I'm really tired of it. So no more, okay?

Seriously.

Eat to Live or Live to Eat?

Some people eat to live.

These people eat to satisfy hunger, a basic human need. They eat because their bodies require food in order to function properly. Quite literally, they eat in order to live. People who eat to live don't care much what they eat. So long as they get adequate nutrition from their food, it doesn't really matter what that food is. For such people, sticking to a weight-control diet is no problem. They simply choose low fat/low calorie items to satisfy their hunger. For example, they are more than happy to order the Fresco style items (read: leave out the cheese, ranch dressing, and sour cream and replace it with salsa, so the taco tastes gross) at Taco Bell. Accordingly, they have no problem getting a Southwest Chicken Salad or Grilled Snack Wrap at McDonald's. They don't drool one drop over those fresh, piping hot fries. Nope, these people are perfectly content eating veggie burgers, tofu, salads with yucky fat-free dressing, or baked lean chicken breast every single solitary day of the week.

Some people eat to live.

Others live to eat! They have an ongoing love affair with food.

People who live to eat think about food practically all the time. When they are dieting, they spend time plotting out their next meal, counting calories and fat grams, wondering how much exercise they will need to do in order to offset whatever low fat, low calorie, low taste thing they last ate. At the same time, they dream of the next time they get to take a "day off" from their regimen and actually eat something good. Food, food, food. It's their every thought.

And when they are not dieting, watch out! Still consumed with the idea of food, these people carefully consider all the glorious options. Will they eat a slice of Cheesecake Factory Dulce de leche cheesecake, or will they instead opt for a half dozen freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies? Will they go out to their favorite restaurant (Olive Garden?) for some Fettuccine Alfredo, salad, and buttered bread-sticks, or will they stay in and prepare some amazing cream cheese chicken, cheese enchiladas, or burgers?

Yes, some people live to eat. Now I realize it's overly simplistic to group people like this; most fall somewhere in between. I, myself, however, am smack dab in the second group. I live to eat! I don't do anything in moderation, so I'm either "on" my diet program, counting every fat gram and dreaming of the next time I get to eat whatever I want, or I am "off" my program and indulging recklessly in the delightful array of high calorie, high fat, delicious food.

I just spent six incredible days off my plan. It was heaven. I won't bore you with the details; most of you have already read my food diaries from previous trips to Salt Lake City (most recent: The Very Hungry Mom, May 2010). Suffice it to say that this time was no different. And now I'm back home, attempting to reverse six days' worth of damage in the next 3-1/2 weeks before we're off to Costa Rica where I will need to wear a bathing suit pretty much all the time.

I have often wondered if it would be preferable to be a person who simply eats to live. Clearly, it would have its advantages. Maintaining a healthy weight (Okay, I'm lying: what I really care about is maintaining an attractive body) would be so much easier. On the other hand, think of all one would miss. The joy of anticipating a slice of Dulce de leche cheesecake would be lost. Gone as well would be the full enjoyment of movies without that greasy and oh so delectable movie popcorn.

Easier? Yes. Worth it? No.

Eat to live or live to eat?

I live to eat.

Real or Fake?

If you've read my earlier blog posts this summer, you may remember that we have two major trips planned, one this weekend to Oregon to attend my niece's wedding and another in August to Costa Rica. I travel often, but 90% of my trips are between Billings and Salt Lake City because I am the wimpiest mom ever and can't go a single month without spending time with my daughter. Trips to Salt Lake City are easy; I barely take anything at all. I use all Shulamith's hair and cosmetic products, and for the most part, just wear her clothes. I pack a small carry-on bag with a few essentials, jump on the plane, and that's it.

The two trips this summer, however, especially the one next month to Costa Rica, have taken and will take just a bit more planning. Gerald, Seth, and I will leave early this Friday and drive to Salt Lake City, spend the night, and then fly over to Portland first thing Saturday morning, in plenty of time for the 3:00 p.m. wedding. So my planning is well under way. A few days ago, I mentioned to Gerald some of the items on my list of things to accomplish before we leave. Along with getting laundry and packing done for Seth and me, some beautification is also a must:

1. Buy more of my gradual fake tanning lotion, so my legs don't look totally white.
2. Get my eyebrows waxed.
3. Have my hair cut and highlighted.
4. Get a pedicure to match my dress.

Oh yeah, the dress saga. Let me be the first to tell you, in case you didn't know, that Billings, Montana is NOT the shopping capital of the world. I know, right? You are overcome with shock. But no. We have one little mall with a few stores (Dillard's, Maurice's, JCPenney, the Buckle, Abercrombie) and a couple strip malls with Old Navy, Ross, Target and Kohl's. That's really all there is. How do I survive here? Who knows? Anyway, a couple weekends ago, I dragged Gerald through every one of the above-mentioned stores in attempt to find a simple dress to wear to this wedding. I tried on every potential dress in each store. The styles this year seem to be about 2 inches shorter than last year, making them just a tad too short. Combine that with the lack of sleeves in most of the styles, and I wound up exhausted from trying on clothes and entirely empty handed.

At the exact same time I was shopping, Shulamith and Matt pranced into a Down East Basics store in Salt Lake City. Matt pulled a dress off the rack, Shulamith tried it on, and voila! It was totally adorable. She sent me a picture right there from her phone. So cute! At that point, lamenting the fact that we don't have a Down East store here, I decided to go to their website and order a dress. Shulamith and I looked online at the same time and found one we really liked, but when I went to place the order, the dress was not available in my size. Grrrr. Persistence pays off, though. I began calling Down East stores near where Shulamith lives, asking if they had the dress in my size, and finally, after several calls, I found it! I begged them to hold it for me, and the following day Shulamith and Matt went to the store and bought it. Well, first Shulamith tried it on and sent me a picture, so I could be sure it was as cute as I thought, and fortunately it was. So I have a dress. I haven't actually seen it in person yet, but I have it. It's hanging in Shulamith's apartment, and I'll get it Friday night. Whew!

Okay, back to my "to do" list: tanning lotion, eyebrow waxing, hair cut and color, pedicure. When I mentioned these "to do" items to Gerald, he had this to say:

"So when you're all finished, I won't see the 'real' you any longer. Your skin color won't be normal. You're hair color won't be normal. Your toenail color won't be normal."

Nope, I guess not. I guess I'm a totally fake person. But can you blame me? My natural skin color is a pale, pasty white. My natural hair color is a mousy, boring brown. And my toenails, well every girl needs pretty toenails, but especially girls who have ugly toes from years of cramming them into pointe shoes.

Real or fake? I'd like to believe I'm quite genuine on the inside where it counts, but I am indeed thankful for the various advantages cosmetology has to offer.

A Midsummer Nightmare

Today marks the mid point in my summer. At the college where I teach, we are fortunate to have a lovely, long summer break, four whole months, May through August. In honor of the absolute mid point, I thought it would be nice to have a midsummer night's dream, you know, the kind with delightful dancing fairies, etc. Instead, I had a midsummer nightmare, and one of the worst ever!

To fully grasp the depth of this nightmare, you need to understand something about me. I have a phobia. Notice, I didn't say "fear," or "dislike," or "hatred," although all of those words would also be true. I said "PHOBIA." I have a phobia in the purest definition of that word. Phobia: A morbid fear, an irrational, intense and persistent fear of certain situations, activities, or objects. Yup, that's what I have. I can't remember a time when I wasn't deathly afraid of a particular type of animal, those long creatures that slither around with no arms or legs. Ugh! Just thinking about them makes me shudder. To understand the depth of my phobia, I should confess that I cannot even look at these creatures in books or in movies. My children are not allowed to have so much as the beanie baby variety, let alone the toy ones that look real. I have to concentrate really hard, like totally focus, even to use everyday objects that resemble the disgusting things, such as garden hoses. It's uncomfortable for me to watch people roll out dough to make soft pretzels or cinnamon rolls. Yeah, it's that bad.

When Gerald and I got married, one of the first things we did was consolidate our libraries into one. As he was flipping through one of my college psychology textbooks, he noticed some pages with pieces of construction paper taped over the pictures. Of course! I still needed to read and study my text, but I couldn't look at those awful pictures in the chapters that discussed systematic desensitization. And in case you're wondering, no, I've never tried systematic desensitization to overcome this phobia. I do not want to look at pictures of snakes, even for short periods of time from across the room. I am not a masochist. No!

Okay, so now that you understand just how serious this is, back to what led up to my awful dream. Earlier in the evening, I had gone out for my daily 4-mile walk on the bike trail near our home. I have walked this particular route literally hundreds of times. Occasionally, during the summer, my walking partners and I will encounter the garden variety of the above-mentioned gross creatures, but my walking partners are all very well trained. The second they see one, they calmly but firmly declare, "Terrianne, we're turning around now," and I OBEY. Immediately. I ask no questions. I know exactly what is going on. So the other night, we had just come through the tunnel, when a woman on a bike came up behind us and asked, "Did you see the rattlesnake back there?"

Gasp. Heart sinking right down into stomach. We continued walking. Our generally brisk walk became suddenly brisker. As long as I was headed away from the snake's location, I remained functional. Then we arrived at the place where we turn around. Wait....I have to go back now, back in the direction of that thing? How am I supposed to do that? The closer we got to the tunnel, the more my emotional well-being deteriorated. Finally, when I could go no farther, my friend suggested that we leave the bike trail and take an alternate route, bypassing the tunnel entirely. Barely able to speak by this point, I nodded in agreement.

We made it home unscathed, or so I thought. Slipping into blissful sleep, I was sure nothing else could possibly go wrong. However, my subconscious mind was evidently still traumatized by this near miss. I "awoke" to the most horrific experience, a snake in my bed, a long white one right there beside me! In a cold sweat, I leaped from my bed and sprinted downstairs to the dining room where Gerald was on his computer having just arrived home from work at midnight.

"There's a snake in our bed!" I shouted. "You have to go find it."

"Um, are you sure you weren't dreaming?" he inquired.

"No, I wasn't dreaming! It is really there, and you have to go up and find it."

So, Gerald goes upstairs and returns to report that there is no snake.

"Did you look under all the covers?" He goes upstairs to check under the covers. No snake.

"Did you look under the bed?" He goes back up to look under the bed. No snake.

"Did you look in the closet?" He goes back up to check the closet. No snake.

"I think you should look under the covers again, and make sure you look under every one." (You see, he's not really that good at finding things, so I was still pretty worried.) He goes up again.

"I really think it was just a dream," he insisted. And......finally....., I was convinced enough to go back to bed.

So much for my delightful midsummer night's dream.