I'm pickling beets today. I bought them at the LeRoy farmer party. Joe's pickling pickles and hanging tree stands. Jessup's playing on top of Joe's car, which he is not allowed to do -on account of my cousin breaking her arm falling off a car when I was little.
I walk outside in my apron, take that little naked-heiny, potty-training boy by the hand and start to bring him on into the house when I think, "I'll go get the mail while I'm out here."
So, Jessup, with his nakeybutt, and I, with my lovely apron and frizzy, just-washed-a-hundred-beets hair-do, walk down to the mailbox.
I told Jessup he could carry the mail, but there is a big, fat Department of Homeland Security, U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services envelope in there, so I take that out and see what those folks have to say.
I yell over to Joe, who's just watering the cow like nothing exciting is happening, "Hey! I think this letter has something good to say!"
Yeah. That's right. We are now a USCIS approved family to adopt a child from Latvia. Yup. Mail that dossier, baby!