I AM NOT A CROOK


 


Jeez, you leave the country for a few days and you get nominated for President.  People, please.  Don’t put me in the White House.  It’s too much pressure.  I can hardly figure out what to wear to the movies on the rare occasions I get to attend them.  How would I ever cope with State Dinners with the Leaders of Foreign Nations?


 


Anyway, we did manage to return to Seattle today.  Good news: we found a Blenz shop in Vancouver so I got one last fix.  Even better news: although crossing the border took for-freaking-ever, it involved no strip searches whatsoever.  We gave the children strict instructions to be absolutely silent while the customs agent inspected us.  Otherwise, they may have offered all sorts of useful information, like “No, we didn’t bring any fruit with us, but there are a couple of illegal Canadian immigrants hiding under the suitcases in the back of the van!”


 


And of course we got home in time for Survivor, so all is well.  Tigger is rooting for the tribe with the purple buffs, because it’s her second favorite color.  Me, I like the heavy black woman who’s afraid of leaves, because who could be more of a Survivor underdog than that?


 


This blog entry seems to lack thematic cohesion.  I hate that.  See you tomorrow.


 

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