I hope he had an interesting trip
- escaping across the border and back, and across and back
- listening to my father name every tree on his 27 acre tree farm, the bear scratched tree, the racoon's home tree, the stump from the tree he cut down in 1976
- while the girls and I walked behind with our sacred sticks and fern crowns, bowing to the sacred stumps and moss and trees and puddles and noisily mocking Grandpa
- watching Gina catapult a pencil into her own eye
- making too-perfect icicles on the gingerbread house
- visiting the Magic Red Button
- trying to use nudity and cesspool in the same sentence on a Facebook status update
- watching people at the liquor store buy beer in shopping carts like real Vermonters do
And of course the second he left the November storm blew in and now I'm back to being stuck in the house with a girl who keeps popping out her retainer to swear at me properly and a girl who doesn't realize she's pmsing when she yells at me about how bored she is. ERGH.
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