the Turbonater

The Indy 500 is on, and I know this because my dad is downstairs bellowing "Back home again in Indiana."

I went to Heidi's graduation party last night. It was mucho of the fun. She lives in St. Paris, and the entire drive there I kept saying "this looks so familiar; I think I've been here before" like some crazy, deja-vu-getting, head case. We finally drove past Kiser Lake, and then I remembered that we used to go camping there all the time when I was younger. My most vivid memory of that time is when we went camping with some family friends, and their daughter and I went looking for firewood in the woods, and because we were both stupid we wandered off of the path, thinking we'd easily be able to find our way back (forgetting, I think, that neither of us has any sense of direction) and we got lost. We ended up standing in one place and yelling her dad's name until he found us.

We're smart.

Heidi has a black lab and he's huge. His name is Turbo, which is ironic because he walks very . . . very . . . slowly. Unless he sees food, in which case he's very quick. He stole Heidi's sandwich and walked (slowly) away with it in his mouth. It doesn't sound funny now, but if you'd been there you would have laughed.

I promise.