A beloved visitor from California arrives in the Great Lakes State

And so another Christmas holiday begins with the arrival of the Beach Urchin from San Francisco. The one who was mistaken for a 15-year-old on her second plane today (San Fran to Phoenix, Phoenix to Daytwa). Nope. Sorry. She is really 25. She was reading Oscar Wilde and her seatmate had been a bit non-plussed that a high school freshman would be reading Oscar Wilde. The seatmate told her that he had been wondering if her mother knew where she was. And actually, her baggy old mother *did* know where she was, because my beautiful 1525-year-old had emailed her itinerary to me and also texted me before boarding. That age-confusion kind of stuff used to happen to me about a gazillion years ago. Not so much any more, although I do *not* seem to get mistaken for a senior citizen very often and that is a good thing. I don’t care about them thar stoopid discounts. I know that’s a rather cavalier attitude but let a baggy old kayak woman have her own fun, okay?

So, the Landfill Fin-Courtois fam is all together for Christmas here on the Planet Ann Arbor and chicken pot pie is in the oven and the next winter storm type weather isn’t scheduled to arrive until tomorrow. And wouldn’t you know that the GG, Mouse and I, all three of us, woke up in the night with congestion, et al, so we are officially on the “sick” call, although I am at about 98% of myself and it isn’t anything at all like the Christmas Crud I got last year, which involved an intimate relationship with the Blue and Only Toilet. Grodko Grodko Grokdo.

Love y’all,
Kayak Woman

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