The other day, in a role reversal of stunning proportions, my husband baked a pumpkin pie from scratch while I was at work.
The rest of this post has nothing to do with that pie, but if you had the opportunity to start with a sentence like that, wouldn’t you do it? The pie was yummy by the way.
Yesterday, while I was at that job of mine, I saw a poor lady wandering around carrying a gift bag and looking lost. I work in a daycare that is in a church building, and there are multiple entrances and nothing is very well marked and it is pretty confusing. So I took pity on her and asked if I could help her find soomething. She said she was looking for the church office.
I led her down the hall, through the giant fellowship hall/preschool room/after-school program room (my room!) through the double doors, through another short hall, and to the office. But alas, no one was there. I told her probably the best thing to do would be to leave the bag in the mailroom, so the pastor or secretary would see it when they checked their mail. I told her I would leave a note for the secretary, because apparently it was important– for a funeral at the church on Saturday. Then I helped her find her way back out of the building.
Later I saw the pastor in the building, so I told him that someone had been by to drop something off for the funeral, and that it was in the mailroom. He asked if it was her. I said it was some lady but she didn’t give me her name. He gave me a kind of weird look but didn’t say anything. I showed him where the bag was and he moved some papers off the top and looked inside and looked at me and said,
And I’m all like, what are you talking about?
And he says, “it’s the dead lady’s ashes.”
And I about passed out on the floor right there.
Because the lady from the funeral home gave a dead person’s ashes to someone wearing a daycare polo and red and gold ribbons in her hair.
Because I left a dead lady sitting on the shelf in the mailroom.
You just can’t make this stuff up, people. I swear it.
In other moments of general hilarity around our house this week, Stinky has been in fine form. The other day he informed me that Little One loves someone in heaven. I asked if it was Jesus and he said that actually it’s the Holy Spirit.
And yesterday, he informed his father that I hate cheerleaders, when I see them I say “boooo!” because I really hate them, only I don’t hate them I love them because Jesus said to love one another.
Today is the Iowa vs. Iowa State game here in the land of corn and pigs, so Hawkeye and Cyclone fans all over the state have been worked up into a frenzied state of mostly good-natured rivalry. We have never been big football people, but after living in football country for ten years my sweetie has finally decided that we must align ourselves with one team or the other.
We made the choice to cheer for Iowa State based on three key points. First, we live closer to Ames than to Iowa City. Second, the doctor who delivered Little One gave her a Cyclones baseball hat with a puffy ball on top (which she cannot wear until she grows hair long enough that she looks like a girl even in a baseball hat). And third, Bubba’s best friend at school is an ISU fan. Although I suspect that my husband also took into account the fact that he’d rather wear red than yellow. Since none of the Iowa teams have blue as their team color.
So today we are rooting for the Cyclones, which means they are fairly likely to lose, so my apologies to ISU fans everywhere.
And also to the dead lady who I left in the mailroom.
I think I’ll go have some pie.