Erin and I rolled into Stillwater somewhere between last night and this morning (i.e. 2:30 a.m.). We had a few “minor” set-backs yesterday -- including picking up the very grumpy gatos from the vet. -- which pushed our departure to 4-ish Denver time. Once we were on the road, we hit rush hour traffic. Then Sammie started in with his bird-like chirping. Then, around midnight, our other cat, Maxi, decided to go to the bathroom in his carrying box. We tried to call his bluff and wait him out, but eventually gave in and found the closest gas station for a quick change. Too bad the station was closed, but no matter; we were merely trying to clean Maxie’s cage, which is sad in its own right. Unfortunately, a couple in an Explorer followed us in, and, once they realized the station was closed, asked if we would buy their gas using our credit card; they’d give us the equivalent in cash, in return. Why they couldn’t do it their damn selves was a bit puzzling until they mentioned they didn’t have a functioning credit card. (My money's on fleeing the law, but...). Knowing that they were on empty, and having been in their situation before, E and I agreed to help and proceeded to personally pump their gas. As we walked to their car, the lady turned to me and asked, “what is this, a mother/daughter duo?” Ohhh, ha, ha, ha. “Yes, that sounds about right. Just after getting my butt slapped and my ‘umbi-cord’ clipped, I had the chance to birth Erin just a minute later. That’s the only way to interpret your question, sweetheart, ‘cause I know you didn’t just say I look 50.” COOOME ON! So I have a few new gray hairs, and the wrinkles on my forehead look like they’re trying to send an S.O.S. to Jesus. I hardly think that makes me look like a mother of a 30-2 year old. Talk about kickin’ a girl when she’s down. How ‘bout we try for twin next time, and work our way up? Pfff. -- J
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