Watermelon: $1.98; Help from a stranger: Priceless

I figured I'd head over to Walmart first thing this morning and get it over with. It was surprisingly empty and quiet. I walked through the produce section and saw an older man over by the watermelons. I don't usually buy watermelons because Brian doesn't like them. But it's my birthday today and Nick's band is coming over this afternoon. And besides, it's my birthday.

The man was still looking through the watermelons when I approached and I felt awkward just picking up a random watermelon to put in my cart. I mean, he'd been selecting his for several minutes now. I decided to act like I knew what I was doing. I picked up a few watermelons and smelled them. The produce guy actually laughed at me, so I decided smelling them wasn't quite right. I remembered that my sister had knocked on the one we'd bought in Utah.

At this point I got carried away. I started knocking on every watermelon, putting them in piles according to what sound they made. I just couldn't remember if a hollow sound was good or not. After watching me for several minutes, the man next to me finally intervened. "You don't know what you're doing!" he announced, pointing to a watermelon. "Take that one." So I did.

I thanked him and started walking away when his wife came over to him. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "You don't know the first thing about watermelons!" I turned to look at the man. "I know," he mumbled. Then he looked up and saw me staring at him. "But I know more than SHE does." It was true. At least now I have a watermelon.

It's what's on the inside that counts.

I finished taping up the box and headed to my car. I was aware that the box wasn't ideal, but there was nothing I could do about it. I hadn't been able to find packing tape and needed to get to the post office first thing. I waited and got several looks from the people standing in line next to me. But, to be honest, some people make a big deal when I go to Walmart in my pajamas, so I've long since given up on trying to figure out why people are rolling their eyes at me.

I put my package on the counter and the post office lady shook her head and groaned. "Only in West Virginia." What's the big deal? The box was completely covered in duct tape, so what. Everyone does that, right? From her reaction, I guess not. Well, it's mailed and chances are it will stay taped together...By the way, I did end up finding the packing tape on my way home from the post office. It was in the car. Who keeps packing tape in the car?

A little warning next time, please.

I was minding my own business, when Anna came from nowhere and grabbed my behind. "You have a squishy butt," she commented as she turned and walked out of the room.

Okay, that is not fair. She should have at least given me some kind of warning first. I yelled for her to come back. I was ready for her this time. "Go ahead, do it again," I told her. She laughed and gave me another pat. "Say it," I threatened, but she just laughed again.

Putting her in a head lock, I told her to say it again. "Fine," she finally conceded. "Mom, you have buns of steel." That was all I needed to hear, she could leave now.

I know, a little childish...But hey, I have buns of steel, so it's okay.

Family.

I guess I told my mom that I would organize her photos while I visited this summer. She has several plastic bins full of pictures and "memories." I seriously don't remember having this conversation. I'm sure someone did---either me or one of my sisters, anyway. My mom reminded me of this yesterday. I leave tomorrow.

Last night we sat looking through pictures. There are some good ones. We laughed at old perms, apologized for bridesmaid's dresses, and had fun laughing at ourselves. My niece, Olivia, held up a picture from my sister Diane's wedding. It was a picture of her husband and all the best men standing in line dressed in tuxes.

"Were all these men your husband?" Olivia asked my sister.

I love sitting around and just being with my family. We tell silly jokes and reminisce. This is why we are here. After looking at pictures we loaded up and drove to Nielsen's for frozen custard and Iron ports. Another tradition.

We go home tomorrow and hopefully we have enough good times and memories to last until next year.

Generic hats are the pits.

My dad gathered a hose from the garage and as we stood in his driveway, he pointed down the street where he would be going to water some grass he had planted. "If you want to come help, I'll be over there." He pointed again.

I was waiting for a friend to pick me up, but nodded anyway. "OK," I told him. "Maybe I'll stop by to watch you work."

After 15 minutes of waiting, my friend still hadn't arrived and I started walking down the street. I figured it couldn't hurt to admire his new grass for a few minutes---the grass in some strangers' yard. Besides, I could see him sitting in the grass from where I was. His hat was one of a kind.

My dad wasn't facing me, so I decided to sneak up on him. I thought I'd surprise him. I'm not sure exactly what I was planning to do--either rub his shoulders or jump on his back. I was standing right behind him, with my hands on his shoulders when he whipped his head around. The look on his face when he turned his head toward me, was almost more surprised than the look on mine.

I could have sworn it was his hat. But apparently it was not. It was the hat of a very startled man who was definitely not my father. And I was at a complete loss for words. I mean what could I possibly say? "Sorry, I thought you were my father?" (As I all but straddled the poor man.)

So I said nothing and walked away. I heard another man ask "Did you know her?" and then there was a very fast exchange in Spanish. I just walked as quickly as I could back to my parents house. I never looked back.

Community shoes.

At my parents' house there are an assortment of shoes in the entry way. We just take off our shoes and leave them there. And, when we are in a hurry and it's time to leave, we just slip on the closest pair and go.

Last night, I needed to go pick up my kids and my sister decided to come along. She tried on a pair of black sandals by the door. "Wow, these are so comfortable," she commented while she walked around the living room.

"They aren't mine. They must be one of Jenny's girls." There really were a lot of shoes by the front door. "I'm sure they won't mind if you wear them," I assured her as we walked to the garage door. Walking past the couch on the way out, she called out, "Thanks for letting me wear your shoes."

Both girls looked up. "Sure, but they aren't ours." My sister and I looked at each other blankly before remembering that there were a couple people talking to my parents in the other room. Surely they hadn't taken their shoes off and left them in the entry way! We snuck over and peeked through the door but had to run away because we kept laughing so hard. Finally we saw that the woman sitting at the table with my parents was indeed barefoot.

My sister took the shoes off and tried to arrange them exactly as they had been. I swear we laughed so hard I almost peed my pants. I could just imagine my parents walking their guests to the door. Then the woman looking around and not finding her shoes..."Um, I'm sure I wore shoes here!" It's a good thing we didn't leave with them still on! I guess it's the chance you take when you leave your shoes unattended.

Psst...by the way...I just thought you should know...

I never feel very comfortable going to my parents church. I haven't always felt this way. Just since the one Sunday, right before church started, that my dad yelled over to me, "Mindy your hickey is showing." And everyone (at least it felt like everyone) turned to stare at me.

Actually it was only my slip that was showing. I often get the two mixed up myself. Hickey---Slip, common mistake. So I understood completely. But I always feel like ever since then, people in that ward look at me rather strange. Especially since at the time, I had been there for a month without my husband. Do hickey's last that long? I don't know.

I did take my dad aside later and explain that the next time he needed to tell me that my hickey and/or slip were showing, I would prefer he pass me a note...Or announce it over the intercom. Either way.