Friday, November 6, 2009

Journal: mistaken identity

Until last January, my husband has lived in the suburbs his entire life. He has adapted well to small town life, but there are some details about rural existence that he's still learning.

1. Around here people sell livestock at a sale barn. When my dad told him he'd worked at a sale barn when he was younger, he thought he knew what they did there. G thought they made sails for boats.

2. We used to drive by an expanse of land that advertised itself as a Limousine Ranch. He mentioned something about never seeing cars there. He thought it was some sort of car lot. A Limousine is a breed of cow.

3. Earlier this week, he thought it was raining outside, so he peered through the front porch window. On our doorstep he saw a small white bundle. Thinking someone had left us a package, he opened the door to retrieve it. Then the "package" looked up at him. He claimed it had a long snout. It must have been a possum scratching on our front door.

Journal: Write about mistaken identity.

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