Here is Grandma, arm in arm with my brother, Daniel, who is possibly entering a fugue state. They are somewhere in Egypt, I would guess. I don’t know. The parental unit stopped lavishing international airfare on me at some point after college (although for a while there I had a pretty sweet thing going). Anyway, look at Grandma. Do you think she stares, vacantly, somewhere into middle space? Hardly. No, she is hatching a plan, or brewing up a joke. Perhaps she is reciting one of the seven million poems she keeps on permanent rotation inside her brain. Or maybe she’s relishing the sight of hirsute, galabia-clad locals. I wouldn’t put it past her. I wouldn’t have put anything past her. Gosh, she was formidable, and I miss her all the time. And I know I was her favorite, even though she went to Egypt without me.
File this under “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?” Back in the day, we were expected to do two things in k-garten: (1) not pee on the floor, and (2) distinguish our right hand from our left. I very clearly recall mixing up my hands, but that was because I was testing my teacher. She failed. A tale for another day, perhaps, but the point is that if some freaking posse of parents had gotten it into their tiny heads to ask for the privilege of overseeing more homework, another larger and quite violent posse of parents would have arisen to thrash the first posse of parents. And my mother would have led the charge, I guarantee it.
I think I’ve been pretty candid with zillow.com. I ticked all the boxes between “Not Baroque” and “Not a Hovel.” So what algorithm matched me up to a monthly mortgage payment of $20,000? See the above bit of real estate that was just flagged for my urgent attention. Someone, somewhere, is messing with me.
Anyway, if you’re interested, here’s the link: http://www.trulia.com/property/3131777985-65-Denali-Cir-Lindon-UT-84042
(We won’t be neighbors.)