Exciting experiences in far-off, exotic lands

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

By Galloping Grandma

I have just returned from California, the home of truly terrifying facelifts and equally terrifying gas prices. I always learned strange and wonderful things when I’m in California.

For example, I discovered that California has a dirt and sand expo. Now, I had a dirt and sand expo on my kitchen floor for years, but it never occurred to me to sell tickets, or that anyone would want to see it. I think it would be a good idea to combine it with the Idaho potato expo and you could grow things there. I’m sure I could find potatoes sprouting on my kitchen floor if I cared to look. Oh, and in case you really care, a dirt and sand expo is for dirt bikers.

California has many many institutes of higher learning. There is the Culinary Institute of America, the American Film Institute and, in Palm Springs, the Hemorrhoid Institute. I wondered, is this where you go to get hemorrhoids, give them, learn about them or teach them? The institute even advertises: “Come on your lunch hour! No waiting!” What the hell do they do on your lunch hour? Are their school colors gold and blue, like the Preparation H box? When you graduate – I assume you can – do you get a giant tube of Preparation H and a rubber doughnut cushion? Do they have a library with books, such as “Hemorrhoids for Fun and Profit,” “The Hemorrhoid Diaries” and “Gone with the Hemorrhoids”? I’m sure they have a school song. It could be this (sung to the tune of “Maryland, My Maryland”):

Oh Hemorrhoid U, my Hemorrhoid U,
How I love the gold and blue.
Sitting down was never fun
Now I sit like everyone.
Hemorrhoid U, Hemorrhoid U,
Alma mater, here’s to you

Now that I’m back in Jackson Hole, there’s news from my hometown of Corncob, Iowa. I hear that Grandma Vogelheim and Mother Lilleboe had a catfight in front of the old lady oversized underwear rack at Pamida. It seems that Mother told everyone that Grandma’s new grandson, Floyd, looked like a gargoyle. He does. In fact, looking like a gargoyle is a Vogelheim family trait. It seems that a mutant gargoyle gene got tangled up in their DNA. Some of the Vogelheims actually are passable, but a lot of them look like they should be perched on a church roof somewhere.

I returned home to find all the dogs have allergies and infections and are taking allergy pills. I suppose corrective shoes, glasses and asthma camp are next for them. Whatever happened to the time when dogs were dogs and were content with a Read Heart and a flea collar? Well, nothing is what it used to be and neither am I. I’m glad to be home. Of course, at my age I’m glad to be anywhere.

Grandma is still out roaming the country doing God-only-knows-what. In her absence, we’re stuck with re-runs. We’ll let you know as soon as we hear something from her.
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Exciting experiences in far-off, exotic lands | Planet JH News Article: Galloping Grandma

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