If life were a Harry Potter novel, my father would be my Patronus.

Actual whispered conversation with my father and me yesterday in church:

Me: what do you think this word means? (giggling, pointing at the word "canticle" in the hymnal) Do you think it means what I think it means?

Dipsey: I think it means eunuch. (giggling) They have canticles. Like CAN'T-icles, get it?

Incredibly perky and bright-eyed church lady out loud to congregation: Let's all bless the lord in song, shall we? We will all sing verses 1, 3, 4 and 5.

Dipsey: She just canticle'ed verse 2.

Me: (snorting)

Mama: (gives us her chipmunk glare. {she very rarely glares, but when she does, she looks like she's trying to make a chipmunk face, to the point where we just all refer to the glare as "the chipmunk."})

A few moments of singing, sitting down....

Dipsey: what's that on your wrist?

Me: a hair tie.

Dipsey: Oh. Why's it not in your hair?

Me: I forgot a sweater for church.

Dipsey: Oh. What's that got to do with anything?

Me: I wore a strapless dress. I look naked to everyone sitting behind us. It doesn't make sense, but I feel like the hair kind of camouflages it and makes me look like I'm not naked.

Dipsey: actually, does makes sense.

Mama: (chipmunk)

A few more minutes and time for another hymn....

Incredibly perky and bright-eyed church lady: And now let's all sing hymn 776, verses 1, 3, 4, 5 and 6.

Dipsey: She canticle'ed verse 2 again! What's she got against second verses?

Mama: Honestly, can't you two pass notes in church like everyone else?

After the church exchange and then reading the Dipper's article in the paper today, I'm reminded all over again that genetics are a real thing. Much like my ability to see things that most people miss completely, Dipsey and I both take the time to notice the crazy weird shit (and usually miss the obvious, but I digress). I am blessed with my mother's feet, great ankles and calves, but my thinker is all from Dipsey. He, much like I do, am amazed by a lot that goes on in the world and think that stories are happening all the time. When he's asked how he can keep coming up with ideas week in and week out he replies "I cannot make this stuff up." That, and he's given me a healthy appreciation that pretty much anything is worth it if you can get a good story out of it. (Actually, his quote is "Well, if we don't all catch the crabs it'll be worth it for the stories," but that is another story for another time.)

In other news, I saw this on my way to work today and although I should have included it in the signs, signs, signs post as an update but I am lazy and lunch is almost over so here:

it makes me sing every time i see it.

Lastly, friend Cathy had such a good time on the Ocoee rafting that she's going again RIGHT NOW sans Groupon and everything. So when she picked up my waterproof camera for the trip I very gingerly said "Um, hey. Please be careful today. Try real hard to not fall out of the boat. A couple of people were hurt over the weekend."

BECAUSE "HURT" IS CODE FOR "DEAD" AMIRIGHT?

I may be a bad friend for not sitting on her foot with my arms and legs wrapped around her leg and making her stay here. Or at least telling her "hurt" is code for "dead" and what do we remember about the Ocoee, kids? It is not Disney World. Just like bears and dolphins and snakes are untamed animals and that anything with a mouth can BITE and depending on how big and pointy the teeth are the results can vary wildly. Although... now I'm thinking... the resulting story would be proportional to the size of the teeth, but if a lot of pain and the possibility of bleeding out is involved I think it's probably NOT worth it. Unless it's someone else's blood, then maybe. If it's someone mean who I don't like then definitely yes.

Ya'll, I can't-icle. I just can't-icle. Over and out.