Monday, May 16, 2005

Who Says Nebraska is Flat?

I put my foot in my mouth so often that when I buy new shoes I should not just try them on and walk around in them, I should taste them too. "Talk First, Back-Pedal Later" is my motto.

When I was in about 8th grade, I went to Nebraska to spend a good chunk of the summer with my mother's family. There are thirteen total cousins, my brother being the oldest & me being the next oldest. We only saw them every couple of years or so as my mom was the only one who "got away".

Anyway, I was staying with my cousin J who is, I think, fourth oldest. We were walking through her tiny town which was gearing up for some sort of festival. You know the type - where all the ranch / farm people herd into town for a weekend of palooza-ing boondocks style. The men get drunk, the women gab, the kids run in sticky filthy feral packs and did I mention the men get drunk?

It was early in the afternoon, and I spied an older lady walking down the other side of the street. She was, as I would delicately say now that I know a little better, exceedingly well-endowed. So much so that not only could she not see her feet, but if the two of us crouched in front of her, she wouldn't be able to see us either.

Smart-mouth that I was/am, I stage whisper, "Wow! I bet her children didn't starve!"

J gives me a funny look and says, "No. They didn't."

I say something like, "Oh, of course you know her. This is a small town and I forget how everyone knows everyone else."

"No," she says smirking at me, "I know her because she's my grandma."

I gaped at her open mouthed for about ten solid seconds, then I just burst out laughing. She and I laughed until we were bent over and had tears streaming down our faces. I think I apologized about a million times.

Thank goodness they hadn't already had the parade or god knows what my shoe would have tasted like.