At 7:50 I looked at my husband and children and said, “Uh oh. I haven’t taken a single picture today. What should I take a picture of?”
Boy7 does what he always does and tells me to take a picture of the first thing his eye light upon. This time it was the flying pig. He said, as if he were giving me the Best Idea Ever, “Hey! Take a picture of this pig! And then…write something funny about it!”
Nope. Got nothin’ about the flying pig.
My Aunt Ginger is 4’11 and probably weighs 90 pounds or so. She grew up in California, but she lived in Texas for a few hours. Apparently once you’ve lived in Texas, it never wears off. She has big hair, a lilting Texan accent, and a habit of telling hilarious stories, completely deadpan.
The last time I saw her was when Darling Husband and I visited her in California about 10 years ago. Before we’d even left the airport, she was telling stories that had me laughing so hard that I had to sit down by the luggage carousel to catch my breath and wipe my eyes.
Aunt Ginger says that when her sister Julie visits, Julie sits in a chair across from Aunt Ginger and then stares at her, on the edge of her seat…waiting…waiting for Aunt Ginger to “say something funny.”
And now I know how Aunt Ginger feels. Because…nope—still can’t think of anything funny to say about the flying pig.
P.S. There is not a single funny pig joke on the internet. I just read them all, and they’re all bad.