Snow! In Missouri! Or what was left of it, anyway.

 
“I have some bad news,” Barb said over the phone.

Columbia received 16 inches of snow in a recent storm, but most of it, she said, had since melted. I saw some while I was there, but it was in random, dirty heaps like the one below.

 
It was 68 degrees Fahrenheit on my last day there. Without consulting the internet, that’s about 20 degrees Celsius. In winter, in the Midwest. What the??

It was great to see everyone and relive the old days. Getting there was fun, too, because I got to knit on the train to the soundtrack of my new toy, and the Southwest Airlines crew were on happy pills. As one of my flights came to a complete stop, the pilot said in an authoritative voice: “Don’t even think about it.” Everyone laughed. Then we heard the ding and the seatbelt light turned off. “OK, now get out!” he joked.

On my last flight back, the flight attendant announced that a couple in the front row really wanted her to sing. “I can’t really sing, but here goes,” she said.

Sung to the tune of This Old Man, aka Barney’s I Love You, You Love Me:

“We love you.
You love us.
We’re much faster than a bus.
We hope you’ve enjoyed our hospitality.
Marry one of us and you’ll fly free!”

Much applause followed.

 

My colleagues in the napping industry.

 
I nearly had a shock on Saturday when we returned to Barb and Nuke’s house after a day of thrifting.

Can you tell what’s wrong with these three photos?

Answer: Everyone in the house was napping except for me! In fact, if you don’t count my first few hours back in the U.S., I haven’t napped yet. And I’m a professional.

If Sparky was here, he would surely grab me and ask, “Where’s Honey, and what have you done with her??”

taken in August at Point Nepean National Park

 
I’m on holiday in America, and I haven’t taken a single picture yet. I’ve been too busy shopping, eating and hanging out with my family. And I miss my comments, so they’re back (for now). Don’t be afraid to say hello.

On Sunday I got the official phone call from Best Friend Since 5th Grade, to tell me she’s engaged. I’m ecstatic for her — in fact, I actually jumped up and down in my chair while she took me through every detail on the phone — but it’s also a little surreal. Our friendship is nearing the two-decade mark. And now she’s all grown up. Nevermind that it was probably weird for her to attend my wedding more than four years ago. Let’s make this about me, me, me.

I haven’t properly met her fiance because I live so far away and he was out of the picture the last three times I visited. So I think that has a lot to do with it — he’s still a two-dimensional picture to me. And the last time I grilled her properly about the relationship, in that way that only best friends can do, I had no idea she was marriage-ready. From my recollection, we had a few more non-specific “things are good with us” conversations, and the next thing I know she’s ring shopping. Whoa. She was probably more than ready, whereas for me there’s a big gap in the timeline. So I can’t wait to meet him and fill in the gap. And I get to take the engagement photo. How lucky am I?

There is no question that I must attend this wedding. There is also no magic money monkey coming to bless me soon, and the wedding’s most likely in June. My next tax refund’s not till July or August, so I need to think up a plan. I can’t take a second job (legally) until I’m a permanent resident. Envelope pimping, perhaps? Secret modeling jobs for cash only? Busking in Bourke Street? Or maybe I should just cross my fingers and hope no one else wants to eat mock meat. I’ll win the Vegie Delights competition by default.