Reunion's coming up

A teammate of mine, who also happened to be another English major, basically functioned as my partner in crime throughout the whole of the second half of my college career. We were so closely linked that if one of us was not in class when the exams were handed back, our prof. would just give them both to whomever had bothered to show up.

We, each of us, were a mess, but together we were a highly functioning mess.
She once missed an email informing us that a final had been moved to a building across campus, and our prof. interrupted the exam to ask me, personally, from across the room, if I knew where she was. She, of course, came running in five minutes later after having sprinted flat out across campus in her usual platform sandals and skirt.

She is the reason that I know Chicago has a curfew, and she is the one who takes me shopping whenever I visit her and insists on taking me to the Urban Outfitters there. I always buy something, just because she brought me.

Politics doesn’t make strange bedfellows, Foodmaster does.

We hit the supermarket running, leaving the dog waiting in the car. Zooming past bread and dairy, we only needed soup, meat, and Gold’s beet horseradish, which I’m still convinced he could get in Phoenix if he just got up and went looking for it, because really, it’s like Boca West out there.
We found the poultry section without a problem, and gladly availed ourselves of the conveniently located napkins after pawing through the slimy chicken packages.
Now we were down to the soup aisle – three kinds – and the dog had been alone for ten minutes.
We couldn’t find it.
How could we not find it?
It’s soup. It’s a staple.
We broke down and asked for help. Aisle 5, Dogfood and Soup.

Of course.

We were done - we didn’t like beets, anyway.

Over the river . . .

I work in the woods. It’s really amazing how nobody believes me when I say that, but I work in the real, honest-to-God, cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die, woods. And I work on the ground level of a building set into a hill. Now, these woods have turkeys. I don’t know how many of you have ever seen a wild turkey, but they’re tall birds, and, usually, they’re scrawny, and they’re dumb. Dumb, dumb birds.
So imagine being the new girl in the office, and looking up from your new desk and out of your new window to find a pack of wild turkeys staring in at you. It was like they’d come to visit the zoo.
“Welcome to Massachusetts, I work in the zoo.”

So the turkeys have been coming by on and off all winter, and since there hasn’t been much snow, they’ve had no problems finding food. So now they’re big, dumb birds. Watching them is like watching your Thanksgiving dinner wandering around outside your window. They’ll disappear over a hill and reappear on the crest ten feet off, and you’ll think, “Dinner! Ho!”

No one back home believes me, so I brought a camera in to work the other day. And of course, when they appeared, I ran outside after them, trying in vain to take their pictures.

Funny thing about wild animals – they run away.

Didn’t occur to me. My mom says it’s a good thing I don’t have to hunt to eat.