Today, my step-nephew (is there such a term, or is he just the son of my brother-in-law?) got married to a girl in either Manitoba or Saskatchewan (I’ve forgotten which, think it’s Manitoba). I know this because I’ve seen photos on “the Facebook.” He was in a tuxedo, therefore he looked fine. The bride was lovely, too. They already have a small baby. I don’t know what this means about citizenship for the new husband, because he’s not from Canada originally. I kind of hope he stays there, because when President Bachmann is inaugurated in January 2013 I might need a family tie for emigration, perhaps. OK, I’m kidding about that whole last sentence. But I did sell him my pick-up, and that should count for something, should the need arise. Though it must be noted that the truck is sitting in his dad’s driveway, waiting for a new transmission. (I didn’t say I sold it in as-new condition.)
How’d he find a wife in the Canadian prairies? It’s a long story involving a circus. I should probably say no more. We know how circuses are. I do not know if any bread was involved.
I’m rambling. It’s a Saturday night and I’m the last customer in a Caribou Coffee where three suburbs meet, which is not in the Upper Peninsula by a long shot, dammit. But it is cooler than my house, which is useful for my purposes, until they close at any rate, which will happen momentarily.
Tomorrow’s plan includes going to pick up my sister, fifty miles away, to bring her down to visit Mom at the rehab center. I did offer last week, so I kind of have to. I still don’t know if Mom’s coming home at the end of this week or next week, but I should find that out by Tuesday. Then it will be a frabjous day, callooh callay.