Stella and I had an uneventful trip, my favorite kind, in which we listened to a lot (a lot a lot) of Taylor Swift.
Tonight we saw Becky's firstborn performing in outdoor Shakespeare. We were sitting together on a picnic blanket on the ground and the woman in front of us said, "Watch out for that snake." Yes, friends, it was a SNAKE, watching Shakespeare right next to my own personal feet. He seemed pretty curious about the playgoers -- he slithered over to the person beside us and curled up right next to him -- as in, inches away from him -- flicking his tongue in and out curiously. "Sir," we said, "sir, there's a snake right next to you."
"Oh," he said blandly, much as if I had told him there was a Beetle next to him (of the Volkswagen variety, not the scarabaeid sort).
I was kind of proud of myself for not flinging myself bodily away from the snake or shrieking disruptively, but that guy was astonishingly chill about having a snake in his personal space.
I watched the last scene while standing up in the back, creating an anti-snake force field by the power of my mind.
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