Lisa and the Wet Mullet
Lisa took the kids to Emerald Pointe, a local water park in Greensboro. I asked her what stood out about the experience, which was not her absolute favorite few hours of the summer. "Now I know what a wet mullet looks like," she said. It seems that America's favorite business-in-the-front, party-in-the-back haircut is reduced to its components when dunked in a highly chlorinated wave-pool--the shorter top growth stands up, and the long strands in the rear straggle down the owner's back. This is true for women with mullets, too--we decided to call them "mullettes."
"I Don't Want to be Blogged"
That's what my sister, Sarah, just told me. She says she is a private person. I shall respect her wishes, right after I tell you that she is eating chips and salsa and drinking a Coors Light, sitting at the kitchen counter of a vacation home in the Virginia mountains. It is too dry here to have fireworks tomorrow, but I'm sure we'll find something else to do. Four kids, three dogs, and six putative adults--maybe we'll have fireworks of our own.
7:11:17 PM 
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