Well, the good news is that we all survived the pancakes.
I don’t know what you were worried about.
We also survived a four-hour youth group outing to the dunes.
I have lived in this town for almost twenty years, and people talk about going to “the dunes”. The town outlaws alcohol “at the dunes”. Late at night during the summer we can hear music blaring from that general direction. I make casual remarks about living in a desert.
But I didn’t realize that when they say the dunes, they mean dunes. As in: less than two miles away from my door is a completely otherworldly, barren stretch of 3000 acres of nothing but sand where crazy people (probably the ones the city council had in mind when they outlawed alcoholic beverages) drive really big trucks up and down with no apparent regard for human life. Theirs or mine.
In fact, NASA has compared the landscape here to the landscape on Mars. They actually came and did some training/testing here a few years ago. And you thought I just moved to “the States”. It’s like… another planet. Complete with strange alien life forms.
I had no idea.
The next he next time I mention that I live in a desert, I want you to picture this:
If I had half my daughter’s photo-taking stealth skills, I’d have sent you some pictures of the aliens, but alas I do not, and I was afraid that then they really might run me over. Eliminate the evidence, and all.