Craters

I have a zit on the side of my neck that I have named "The Goiter." I thought it was a bug bite, it was so large, but it's not acting like a bug bite, it's acting like a zit. I have worn a scarf to work today just to keep it under wraps. If it doesn't hatch soon I may have to haul out the medical tools.

This Sunday hubby and I were driving to his dad's house. The road we take has a lot of potholes. Hubby swerved to miss a particularly big one. "Look, Hon, I'm your dad." My dad is a notorious pothole avoider. He will swerve into on-coming traffic to avoid a pothole. And he doesn't ease into it, either. Every single pothole seems to sneak up on him at the last minute. He swings the steering wheel violently to the left or right. If you are unlucky enough to be in the back seat you're getting out of that car with bruises (provided you're not laying on the highway somewhere surrounded by broken glass).

When a pothole manages to elude my father and sneaks under the car my dad reacts as one might to a land mine. He tenses up his shoulders, holds the wheel in a death grip, and lifts his butt off the car seat - like that is going to avoid annihilation if he happens to run over the only buried highway land mine in this country. When the car continues on it's way he lets out a big sigh. We got lucky that time. Next time we may not be.