Free-grazing rabbits and dead raccoons

I went grocery shopping with my sister Amy tonight. I thought my love affair with food gathering had ended - like when I put off grocery shopping in Columbia until I only have a jar of tainted peanut butter left. But I realized that it wasn't that I stopped liking groceries - it's just that it wasn't the same without my best friend and fellow shopper.

We decided that this summer, we're going to go grocery shopping as late at night as possible and in the most hideous outfits as possible. We gave it the good old college try tonight - me in my hot pink t-shirt (with a cow emblem on the front, obviously), navy blue cheerleader shorts, black flip flops, a cream-colored wool zip-up jacket and a black headband. Amy looked even hotter in her pink cat pajama shorts and leopard print flats.

We came up with perfectly plausible scenerios as we meandered through the fresh vegetable section of the store. What would the workers do if we brought in a couple of rabbits to free graze? Would it be too odd to carry a bouquet of broccoli in a wedding? And why, we wondered, inching toward the meat section, would someone want to buy pork riblets? Doesn't that just sound off?

We went down all of the aisles a couple of times, apparently looking lost and getting asked twice if we needed help. In fact, we were in the grocery store so long that we actually saw a very attractive 20-something year old guy in there - and that's when I almost started regretting that I hadn't brushed my hair today, or even had such keen insight as to apply a hint of make-up. Almost. But then I looked over at my sister, who was fondly caressing a package of hot-cross buns, announcing to no one in particular how she could taste them going down her throat, and I realized that who needs a beautiful guy in a sky-blue shirt when you can have THIS? This, of course, equals the only person in the world I would trust to pick out apples for me at the grocery store. And only because I have taught her well.

It's been so great being home. As I had to ask for help finding the pasta aisle in the grocery store, I realized how long it had been. It's the small things, of course - things that I could only have found in London or in Columbia if I had 'napped a herd of wild flamingo. My mom and I were taking a walk down our lane last night - the weather was SO beautiful - when we heard a roar of engines from behind us. Obviously, it was the six-year-old on the four-wheeler and the eight-year-old in the go-cart. Racing. They pull up next to us, the motors so loud that Mom and I can't hear ourselves think, let alone talk. "See that raccoon up there?" Lexie says, pointing to a pile of fur in the field. "It smells." As we continued walking, coming up closer and closer to the animal, we found that it did indeed smell. "It smells a lot worse now that I've run over it a couple of times," she said matter-of-factly.

Mom told the girls to go home because they were being annoying, and the girls promptly rode into the field, where they proceded to run into each other on their vehicles. This was followed by a torrent of accusations - "She hit me!" "No, she hit ME!" How do you know, when they run into each other head-on?

I love how some parents won't even let their children open the pantry by themselves. I'm trying to think of things my sisters aren't allowed to do, which is easy because my parents have lots of rules - however, the girls just don't follow them. And I think my parents are too tired to deal with them anymore. My dad has been a parent for 36 years and my mom has given birth to seven children. It's just so much easier to laugh. Besides, my mom tells me nearly every day that when Lexie hits teenagedom, she's moving in with me. My mom moving in with me, or Lexie moving in with me, I haven't quite figured out which. But oh my God, will Lexie be a terror teen.

Speaking of Lexie, she acquired a new best friend while I was in London. Her old best friend was Jillian who lives down the road in a house with an indoor pool. Lexie was obsessed with Jillian. She would call her every day, several times a day. She had a birthday party with a bunch of kids - but she only talked to Jillian. But I guess Jillian and Lexie were in different classes last year, and that sort of pulled them apart. That, or the fact that Jillian got a restraining order on Lexie. Both are equally possible. Anyway, no worries because Lexie has a new best friend. Her name is Hannah, and she is nine. Can I ask - how many six-year-olds have a nine-year-old best friend? And in case you think it's a power struggle, let me brush that theory aside quickly. There is no fight over who wears the pants in this relationship. It is so clearly Lexie.