FW: ... read the previous entry first

I guess the moral of the previous intro entry is that sometimes life sucks. It’s true. It’s full of backaches bruises and little black things that get stuck in your teeth…
I stood outside of a small truck stop where I had attempted to get rid of some of the puke smell. I could only do so much—they didn’t even have paper towels, just electric hand dryers. I used the leftover dirty cloths from the trip to wipe off. Then I gathered up my belongings and a little bit of my dignity and stuffed them all in a plastic bag. I stared at the van…
You know, my great-great-great-grandmother was in one of the handcart companies crossing the plains. It was a freezing morning, and her three daughters felt it almost an impossibility to get out of bed. They were weary, hungry, and cold. Their mother, thin and ragged herself, examined her daughters’ reluctant faces. There was such a submission to fatigue! Such a surrender of hope! She hated to see her daughters like that, so in the middle of the bleak Wyoming wilderness, she lifted up her skirts and began an Irish jig. The three girls in bed stared openmouthed at their mother who had trekked hundreds of miles on the plains, leaping and cavorting in a whirl of frayed petticoats. When she suddenly stumbled and fell, they jumped out of bed and raced to her side. She stood right up, and they were all ready to begin another day…
I love how you can choose what color you want your cast to be if you break a bone. I love how nonsensical tickling is, old cell phones that will still work even if you hurl them down two floors of cement stairs, and how even an awkward dinner with relatives can turn out fine because you had someone to laugh about it with afterwards…

Step to your left, stomp, shuffle to the right,
and into the van we go!