The title of this book was triggered by a remark that Heinlein's wife had made[2]: in the novel, the protagonist's cat refuses to leave their house through any of its numerous doors when he sees snow on the ground: he is looking for The Door into Summer.
I ate a big meal last night. And I just didn't want to wear anything tight - so I grabbed the pajamas James left at my house. They are really big on me - but they were comfy. James is a social butterfly and in my dreams (while wearing those PJs) I was as well. I seemed to see almost every one of my friends last night while dreaming. I woke up trying to remember everyone who starred in my dreams. Old friends I haven't thought of in years, dead friends. It was fun.
I wanted to buy some Dom Perignon, so I went to my favorite liquor store and asked if they had any. They did. $160 a bottle. I decide to ask the guy if it's dry or sweet. I forgot that's it's a really dry champagne. Yuck. My dad grew up drinking Manischewitz wines and when he had his first glass of dry wine - he spit it out. So to make up for his ignorant years, he drinks the driest wine he can find. I'm somewhere in the middle.
There's a sweeter champagne type wine a Spumante Frizzante that's sweeter and cheaper. So I got that. And some scotch. And some organic rum. I can celebrate all sorts of ways.
My parent's, in the 70s, used to throw the craziest New Year's Eve parties. One year, my mom wanted to make it a Chinese New Year. Somehow she found someone with one these huge dragon costumes and a bunch of us wore it and we walked through the house. There were a ton of people, food, liquor and it nuts. We have a balcony that overlooks the living room and at midnight, we got to throw confetti off the balcony at midnight. I still feel sorry for the guy whose plate of fresh food we purposely aimed at.
I hope to have fun at my house tonight. Not so much on the crazy drunk stuff - but just mellow fun.
On cold yucky days, my mom would make spare ribs. So in my mind, a cold yucky day (usually a Sunday) where you feel all tired and blobby IS a spare rib day. A grey day, where you have tons of forgotten homework, like some stupid paper or a diorama that's due the next day. Or a test you've been putting off studying for. And then there's spare ribs for dinner. Only a few of my friends understand what a spare rib day is. There really is no cure for a spare rib day. Except waking up the next day.
Because of the above, I don't usually like spare ribs (because they are only served on yucky days - duh!). Unless the Big Daddy makes them.
And I feel all porky for eating alot of Big Daddy BBQ this weekend - to stave off a spare rib day. Damn it!
Here's my gift wish. I want someone to search their old video tapes and find that stupid old Johnsonville Brats commercial, "Charlie Murphy's cooking Johnsonville Brats!!!" Now. Why isn't it anywhere. Come on. Please! Upload it to your favorite video site and send me an email.
love,
Debora
I was back seeing my podiatrist today because my feets still hurt. Two weeks ago, I went to see her, and she told me to wear my orthotics all the time. In the shower, in bed. No - but just no bare feet. And it's been getting worse. My shoes have become Cruel. I was back at her office and was joking (kind of) asking could I get a coupon for a foot massage? A light bulb went off over her head, she's affiliated with a physical therapist just down the road. She wrote up an Rx for 12 sessions. My intuition said to call and they had an opening almost right away. I hobbled into the office on my bad feet. Usually you just get the stupid consultation and then NEXT time you get the therapy. Ha! I got some work done, some pressure point stuff, some massage. I got off the table and the angels sang! I may have shouted "Hallelujah, brother! I am here to comfort the sinner and return the stray lamb to the fold." Most of the pain was gone! And I get to go back for more. Just because I was joking around and asked for a massage.
If I got a scale for Christmas - I'd kill that person. There'd be no fake smile no - "Thank you for the pants." (Crow on MST3K) Just a big clunk to their head.
I've been feeling down, let down, sad - disappointed. All sorts of down. I have this book "Our Lady of Lost and Found" a book about the Virgin Mary coming for a visit. The book is by my bed. I was thinking of Tom Hanks in the movie, "Big" making a wish to be big to Zoltar. You can't really ask for guidance from a fortune telling game machine. I grab the book by my bed and I say out loud - "Ok Mary, give me something here." and I flip open the book. It's the part about milagros - Mary is unpinning milagros from a dress. All these different metal items for health, or money or any sort of prayer. It struck a chord. Maybe I need to find milagros for the prayers I need answered. The one pictured here is kinda cool. Milagros.
Sorry Zoltar.
Turkeys are filled with enough L-tryptophan to knock you on your sorry Thanksgiving ass. 
On my travels I saw this sign and paused. It said Dr. Ugs. Not Drugs. Hmmm. On closer look it was coffee shop. The inside has the original tin ceiling and probably the original soda fountain counter. I heard the owner bought it because she loved the sign (bless her heart!) She has had sign salesmen come in and say she has a very outdated sign and could they sell her a new one. Ha! She's a big supporter of the town of Virginia, IL.
And they made a great pumpkin latte. Get in your car and go visit this adorable town. Now!
James and I have just been to the IAICV - International Association of Ice Cream Truck Vendors with our friend McCarty - who does NOT sell Good Humor. Ha! He sells for the Blue Bunny. My job is to fake up photos with his face on them for his coworkers. He hates me. Yet we are a customer of his company so he powers through it - like tequila.
We met this kid, Zach at the convention, who had a list of rules and he's repeat them from memory. Zach's rules:
1. Don't get killed
2. Don't get stolen
3. Don't be a pain in the ass
4. Keep it short
5. Don't run through shrubs.
His dad, another ice cream truck driver, would make Zach repeat these rules daily. I think they should be the new "Everything I learned in Kindergarden..."
While shooting this - a street person tried to talk to me. I wouldn't answer.I was shooting - duh! He kept trying to engage me. He thought he'd scare me by saying,"What do you think of the new president?" Dude, I'm from a blue state. Down here, red. necks.
My parents have been Obama supporters since the very beginnings. This photo was taken at a fundraiser in the Chicagoland (I so love that term) area in 2004. My parents believe in nothing - really. But when Obama at this fundraiser commented on the guy's house and mentioned he couldn't have white carpet because he had little kids - that won my parent's hearts. We had white carpet in our house but it was my dad and his pipe smoking that was the demise - not us kids. Also there was the Ryan scandal - and it took place in my home town.
I hope Obama wins - then maybe it's a cabinet post for me!
Ok - not Andre but Klecko - but it sounds French. It was the first Saturday of the Month - I call it the bread show at the Saint Agnes bakery. Klecko decided it was French day - he had French sourdough and other french. Maybe he just called everything French. French rye bread, French kolaches. Hell, it was early. Kim Ode was there and we griped about MHS and a possible French girl joining the stable. Inside jokes. Klecko and I have a standing date at Big Daddy's BBQ on retail Saturday. I had popped in just to say hi after an early meeting and yet he was ready for BBQ. Big Daddy's is in Frogtown (French bread, Frogtown, new French chick) And to drink - "Peru" at the bakery.(Better Off Dead movie line) We joked and stuffed ourselves with BBQ. You can kiss your afternoon Au Revoir - because you always need a 3 hour nap after Big Daddy's. Or is it Klecko?
I miss you old girl. You'd eat the pumpkin innards. Weird! I wonder if you were raised by hippies. You'd bark at the trick or treaters - yet you had to check out their costumes. Pat always hated the cape and thought it was dumb.
Last Thursday, my dance card was full! Friends planned a trip to the Soap Factory's Haunted basement. It's really scary in many ways. There's a note from the Twin Cities Paranormal Society that says the place is "swarming with spirits." And it is. I can feel something powerful in that place. Combine that shit with a haunted basement - a haunted, dark moldy basement. It was good and scary. It's hard to focus on spirit activity while spooge clowns scream at you and spray you with water (I hope it was water.) Even scarier was driving with John to the restaurant. He hates city driving. I was talking him through his "bad trip." Ha! "You can do it John, just make a right turn, oh look a parking space." He was sweating he was so nervous. Poor guy. I learned to drive in Chicago - nothing scares me. We were all driving to the restaurant because James and I had to run to the Found Footage Festival. I had heard about the Found Footage Festival showing the same night at the Heights Theater - shown above. I wish they had close up pictures of all the little details at the Heights. There's an organ (that white thing up by the stage.) Usually someone is playing it as you walk in and when the movie starts - it magically lowers. You can stare at the cool chandeliers filled with colorful lights - I just dig that while you listen to the organ. The found footage was fucking hilarious. I might have to buy the DVD. James and I keep repeating lines we heard from it.
I went to Barb Stuart's memorial service last night. It was really cool seeing parts of her life I never knew. Her dear friends and Chris said such wonderful things about her and the short life she lead. The common thread among all the speakers was her laugh. She had a very recognizable laugh - deep, throaty. It came from deep inside her. And it was amazing that laugh because she was lung transplant survivor. She had this great inner glow and energy. I would see her at Ken's yearly birthday parties. She'd want me to photograph her and her transplant scars. I'd give her my card and hope she'd call but it never worked out. In my dreams last night, I was watching a video of her with James. In the video she smiled really wide and laughed that big booming throaty laugh and I woke up smiling.
I was reflecting on other friends and family who have died too young, Tom Hoffman, Mort Minkus, Amy Currier and how they too all had that glowing luminousness. A sparkle not like a diamond but a colored rhinestone. More fun, playful. An aurora borealis rhinestone.
James and I are in London. My mom declared, "I want to go out for dinner for my birthday, in London." Ok so here we are a day before her actual birthday. Last night, we were wandering around in Shepard's Market and saw this restaurant. It killed me. Polish Mexican. Bland dumplings and spicy food. How could they do it? And why? We had lunch there and it was adorable. They had made Mexican food for the Mexican embassy and when they hired a new cook - they asked her - can you do Mexican? Sure! But she was Polish and had lied. So they closed the place down for two weeks and taught her how to cook Mexican and I guess they added the stuff she knew how to cook. The cook spoke Polish because we said "Yakshemash"to her and she understood or pretended to. I had hoped for Polish and Mexican fusion but the owner, Ian, said all they did was fission - never the twain shall meet. We made our own fusion dish, James got the Pierogi and I had a spicy chicken salad. He had a Polish beer and I had a white wine from Chile (close) Great meal and great stories. Boring tourists sites of London don't even compare!
This is one of my favorite Calvin and Hobbes strips. It hangs on a bulletin board in my home office. James is off camping. I was staring at the phone knowing he wouldn't call and starting humming this song. It's depressing but fitting. I miss you James.
James and I went to the Basilica of St Mary in Minneapolis today (just look at the site name. Impressive!)
http://www.mary.org/
to pick up an art piece that was displayed in a religious art show. Luckily it was still displayed right there in the main basilica area so I could take a picture for his portfolio. To go in through the Sacristy you need a guide. We're in the basilica and James jokes around with the guide since his piece was in an art show - does he get a Plenary Indulgence - (which can be gained four ways: confession, communion, prayers for the pope, or charity. ) I always think you get an actual something - a pretty gold plaque - like shown when you get an indulgence. In the middle ages, the abuse and buying of indulgences got way out of hand. "The most well-known and debated question is the indulgence granted for building the new St. Peter's Basilica in Rome."
So later today, I drove James to Scott's house for their annual camping trip. And then after that - I drove Rob to work because he has a DUI and can't drive. So do I get an indulgence for doing all these good works? I always think if you have to ask - then no plaque, no coin. It's from the goodness of your heart. I did get some of the trail mix that Scott and James take camping. And it is giving me plaque on my teeth.
There is so much bullshit involved in seeing a doctor these days. 
James and I were out yesterday buying him a planer he found on Craigslist. We're at this guy's house and he has all sorts of cool shit laying around - an old coffee can with a great logo, an old drill press and a little John Deere tractor thing. See the picture. It looks like kid's toy. I tell him my mom will buy weird antiques for my dad and the gift is making my dad guess what it is. The old tractor looks like a sprinkler. The dude tells me it is. It travels all over the yard on the hose. I am incredulous. No fucking way! I think maybe some antique store might have that. I love it. I have new grass seed and I'd love to see the little tractor drive around my yard and water the grass. I think I type John Deer sprinkler in the Google. Holy shit - they sell them at Ace Hardware. I call my local Ace and they have two kinds. I jump in the car. And there's a red Ace version and the John Deere tractor one. Tonight, James helped me set them both up and we watched them traverse my backyard and water the grass. The neighbors were equally excited. Kirk, the little neighbor boy, kept running from my front yard, to my back yard. He bet the red Ace one was faster. What do you know - red is always faster!It is National Apple Dumpling day. Long long ago, when I was wee thing. The Wilmette movie theater - my neighborhood theater - advertised kiddie matinees. We had seen one good movie there and I was certain it was the Apple Dumpling Gang. Nope. When it started I remembered that the GOOD movie was HR Puffnstuff. Apple Dumpling was insipid. And we suffered through it. And I've always remembered since that day - it was the bad one.
I saw my therapist yesterday. She kills me - and I mean in a good way. She cracks me up. My current meds might be causing some stomach upset so we decided to change them. I have a friend on an MAOI type drug and there's alot of foods you can't eat while on an MAOI. I said to my therapist "Do not put me on an MAOI" and she said, "Oh honey, you NEED red wine, chocolate and cheese. I would never do that to you." Adorable. And a license to eat drink and be merry.
Doesn't that chocolate, cream cheese cake say it all. Maybe I'll send it to my therapist.
Which is a funny name for a song because at my parents house, I do have my whole collection of childhood toys - in the attic. It's a hideous mess. And some in the secret room,too. The lever to open the secret room door is well a secret and nearly impossible to find. This is not my picture - but a great shot of what it may look like. Or Toys in the Attic by Pink Floyd is a depressing song about being crazy
Crazy.Sometimes you worry no one NO ONE is listening to you and everyone thinks you're crazy. If feels like you're wasting their time. Then one magical day, you finally find someone who listens. Really listens. And maybe there's an answer. Just because they listened. Then it's time to clean out the attic and maybe the basement as well.
Toys in the attic, I am crazy.
Truly gone fishing.
They must have taken my marbles away.
(crazy. toys in the attic, he is crazy.)
Crazy.
Over the rainbow, I am crazy.
Bars in the window.
There must have been a door there in the wall.
For when I came in. . .
(crazy. over the rainbow, he is crazy.)
I yelled at the sky
Made an Indian cry
And the days go by
You are still a whisper on my lips
A feeling at my fingertips
That's pulling at my skin
You leave me when I'm at my worst
Feeling as if I've been cursed
Bitter cold within
Days go by and still I think of you
Days when I couldn't live my life without you
Days go by and still I think of you
Days when I couldn't live my life without you
Without you
Without you
My lawn looks like crap. This was a long hot summer and I didn't water it. Oops! When I moved in, twelve years ago, the people who owned the house before me told me that they had tried seeding and putting in sod. And had no luck. I was told to get my soil tested at the University of MN. I've kept meaning to. Yes for twelve years. I had my back yard redone two years ago (because it looked like crap) and it's all dead again. At the State Fair there was a Master Gardener booth - stump the gardener with you questions. I tell them my lawn it crap and they tell me to get my soil tested. Geez, the soil lab is so hideously far from my house (three miles.) So I finally did it. I downloaded all the forms and went digging in the yard. And I paid for three tests - the standard, salts and lead. I joked with the lady that if my lawn was so terrible would they call, tell me to sit down and that my lawn was nearly dead and it was best to put it out of it's misery. And to asphalt the whole thing. I made her laugh. What if I do have the most diseased lawn and I do get the call? I hope it's Calvin who make the call and he'll have to get the saw. And the asphalt!
I was driving past downtown St Paul and this song came on the radio. With the RNC in town, nearly every exit near downtown is closed. There've been angry protesters, urine throwing and cross dressing. Listen all y'all it's sabotage. By everyone.
I was at the fair today. Yes, the now closed Minnesota State Fair. No food, no people, no rides. But I needed to shoot some stuff. And it was great - because one thing I wanted to shoot had some obstructions a few days ago - and now they're gone. No crowds to block the French Fry stand, or to block the shot at Steichen's. And a whole empty parking lot of these crazy garbage cans -all 4 flavors. This is my all time favorite. "A slap in America's face". So I reshot them with the digital camera. I filled up my cards, said my goodbyes to the fair and went home. It's really closed and I'll have to wait until next year. The garbage can is empty along with my heart. Good night fair.
In usual fashion, the fair ends and autumn arrives. No lie. I have gone to the state fair on a sticky humid day and wanted only cold foods and then walked home in the rain while a cold front moves in and had soup for dinner. Yesterday, Labor day, it was the last day of the fair - sticky humid. Yucky. And today, the cold front and the rain has moved in. Weird. I am in withdrawal. No more mini donuts or cheese curds or neon midway rides. 
James has some college friends who all used to play those nerdy games like D&D and Magic the Gathering. Not my cup of tea. Me - it's MST3K. It was one of these nerds birthday.James stops by his favorite magic store, Eagle Magic, and buys some dice. I decide to make a Magic the Gathering birthday card to go along with the dice - and I find an actual card called Slice and Dice. So I find the Magic the Gathering font and symbols and write my own copy. The best part was the party was this hilarious girl, Amanda, with no prompting asks something like, "What is this - a Magic the Gathering party?" And there's the lead in for the present. Priceless. Luckily there was much less chatter about World of Warcraft and their nerdy games but more goofing around with an iPhone - much cooler. Yet Al, (a Phil Collins look alike) could not hang up (I'd keep yelling at him "hang up") with the texting and leaving voice mails. To another member of the party. Endlessly. You give them a cooler toy and DOES become a Magic the Gathering party. Oh well.
My state fair. I love you. I love the food, the garbage cans, the people, the smells, the neon, the signs, the rides. I love the guys hawking their products - sometimes with decade old spiels. I've heard them all. I own brooms and mops and knife sharpeners purchased from the fair just so I have little reminders the other 355 days of the year. My shadow box only covers so much. I love hearing the fireworks (sorry Sass) every night. I only thing I don't love is that it heralds the end of summer.
Once I went to the fair, it was hot and sticky. A storm came up and as I walked the mile home, it got colder and grayer. By evening - it was 50º and I was eating soup to stay warm.
In the movie "Princess Bride" (for me it's the book - NOT the movie) Vizzini: You only think I guessed wrong! That's what's so funny! I switched glasses when your back was turned! Ha ha! You fool! You fell victim to one of the classic blunders! The most famous is never get involved in a land war in Asia, but only slightly less well-known is this: never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha...
Vizzini: [Vizzini stops suddenly, and falls dead to the right]
Buttercup: And to think, all that time it was your cup that was poisoned.
Man in Black: They were both poisoned. I spent the last few years building up an immunity to iocane powder.
I love this picture of you guys. Off on one of your adventures. I have no idea who took it.
I keep the photo in my address book in case I want to call you and tell you of the funny thing I saw at a store. Or that I have gossip. I think about how long it's been since I talked to you. Then I remember. That the photo was in the funeral program five years ago. Everyone thought I was nuts saying, "It's a joke, right?" "They'll pop up and say "Surprise!" You guys didn't pop up. It was real. Both of you in a horrible plane crash.
I will toast you kids with ice cream and Captain and Coke. And wish you were with me. I miss you tons, love, Debora
My Sassala, was the best nurse. I loved that when I would get out the digital thermometer, she'd growl at every beep. But each growl would get softer. Beep. Grrrr. Then she got used to it. Damn that was cute. When you'd take a sick day, get a bunch of DVDs and get all comfy on the couch by the tv. She'd get on the floor right by you. Every few hours she'd get up and dead check you. She'd make you pet her by putting her nose under your hand. The response to that was, "Hi honey, I'm not dead. Yet." If someone was worrying about you being alone, at home and on NyQuil - you know Nurse Sass was there to dead check you. That cold wet nose could wake you from a double dose of the Quil.
I was out sick yesterday and I tried to will my nurse there with me. I tried to imagine her wet nose. And how she'd stand up on the frame of the couch and bark as other dogs dared to walk by the house. I only got a faint glimmer and a few dog hairs in the wuss blanket. But no actual real live dog.
Mumph.
On the weekends, what I did for fun after college was go on mini road trips. I worked at a camera store so my film processing and film was at cost. Sometimes friends would be dragged North to towns like Pleasent Prairie or Winthrop Harbor. Or I'd go to Chicago and watch Harold the Fried Chicken King go after that neon chicken - until my friends pulled me away. See more here.
I met Amy Currier at UW Stout in 1983. I swore she spoke with a New York accent. But actually, she was from Nicollet MN and couldn’t really say her “R”s. Currier became Cuweeyou. She liked punk music and weird clothes; a was a kindred spirit. As a little girl she’d write her name as Amy E. She thought she had to write out the “E” in Amy. She was one of the reasons I moved to Minneapolis after college. She had a house in St Paul and she was always rehabbing it. She went from clothing designer to computer programmer. It’s her birthday today and she was a big fan of Captain Morgan and Coke. One memory I have of her is drinking ice cream drinks at W.A, Frost in St Paul. I always toast her birthday with some liquor and some ice cream.
Come see this guy at the Minnesota State Fair Fine Art building from 8/21 to 9/1.
My dad always wanted someone to invent a skinny pill. I'm with you, dad. There is no magic skinny pill.
When my sister was a wee thing, we were in Arizona. It was hot and she was tired and crabby. She's whining and crying and my mom was getting sick of it. Finally, my mom decides to ask her what why she was so upset. My sister says she has cactus in her pants. My mom in a fit just pulls down my sister's underpants. There it was - some tiny piece of cactus in her underpants.
Sometimes it is that easy to make it all better. Sometimes it's the Mexican food that makes it feel like you have cactus in your pants.
It's like the Get Smart cone of silence: 
My local paper, the Pioneer Press has this great column called Sainted and Tainted. Anyone can write in write good or bad (Sainted or Tainted) moments that happened to them in St Paul. Mostly it’s about wallets returned, restaurant bills paid anonymously – lost dogs found. The tainted ones are the best. This was in today’s paper. TAINTED
The reality TV show "Greatest American Dog." I grew up watching "Lassie" and have loved dogs my whole life. When I heard a commercial for "Greatest American Dog," I thought, why not watch it? Ten minutes later, I turned it off. I did turn it back on after about a half hour, hoping it would have gotten better, only to see the dog owners in grass skirts.
I know this is reality TV, but we humans have sunk to a low level, having our dogs act like us. It was pitiful, and I think those dogs need to adopt new masters.
Kathy Hamilton, St. Paul
In 2000, I went on a road trip to Austin, TX to see a good friend, Caroline. I took alot of side roads, shot the shit. You know. I traveled a bit on Route 66 and found this gorgeous old thing.
In November 2007 - I went on a road trip to Austin, TX to visit her again. I took the Lincoln Highway and other parts of Route 66. I have the world's greatest travel white noise generator/alarm clock. - it goes with me everywhere. Caroline and I take a road trip while I'm visiting her and of course plug in the alarm clock. When the alarm goes on, the white noise goes off. Then I start hearing shit in other hotel rooms. And that's what gets me up. Caroline is sound asleep after the alarm goes off. She's sleeping so soundly, that I think she's dead. Finally she wakes up - the best sleep she's ever had. I tell her how freaked out I was. The next morning - I'm a bit better prepared but it's like we're at the famous Hotel Chelsea where the Warhol superstars stayed. Is she Edie Sedgwick? It becomes the running joke.
I just sent Caroline a similar white noise generator (a much overdue birthday present). I didn't even know her neighbor would let her alarm clock go off for an hour - in her own Hotel Chelsea. Maybe someone got the neighbor girl a white noise machine. And Caroline tells me it's the best sleep she's gotten since the Motel Chelsea.
Damn you Little Debbie and Mrs Freshley. I love your 100 calorie products. Which by the way, Deb, you seem to be ashamed of because they are buried on your web site. Mrs Freshley's is a bit more out out in the open. Can I buy your products at my local grocery store? No. I have to gird my loins, suck it up and go to a Super Walmart to obtain your products. Is Super Walmart any where near my house? No fucking way. It's a trip to East Jesus nowhere. But the dazzling array of snackitude when I arrive is almost worth the trip.
Damn you both for my snack jones.
I don't believe in you. Dear god
I wont believe in heaven and hell.
No saints, no sinners,
No devil as well.
No pearly gates, no thorny crown.
Youre always letting us humans down.
The wars you bring, the babes you drown.
Those lost at sea and never found,
And its the same the whole world round.
The hurt I see helps to compound,
That the father, son and holy ghost,
Is just somebody's unholy hoax,
And if you're up there you'll perceive,
That my hearts here upon my sleeve.
If theres one thing I don't believe in...
Its you,
Dear god.
I was feeling sluggish the other day - moving as fast as Jabba the Hut. Driving to get a massage from a dear friend of mine. We exchange stories during the massage. I was feeling dull and felt I had no stories to tell her. Last time she told me about a Werebear that got me laughing. I told her I was feeling like Jabba the Hut. And she responds in that guttural way Jabba talks. And we both started laughing. Then the conversation morphed into people who talk like cartoon characters. She knows a man who talks like Mr Lunt of Veggie Tales. I know a guy who talks like one of the characters from the movie, Galaxy Quest.
Pretty cool to walk in as Jabba and leave laughing.
