The Brother and Laura are coming down here tomorrow to visit us. They are bringing their small, sensitive dog Ernie, too. Ernie loves to pick on Henry, and Henry plays along very nicely until all of a sudden HE HAS HAD ENOUGH THANK YOU VERY MUCH and then he jumps on the furniture or demands to be held at all times in order to get away from Ernie.
Should be a great weekend.
(Brother tells me that I make the Ern sound real annoying. And, well, he’s not THAT bad…he’s very cute and snuggly. I’m sure I’ll post about 5,000 pictures of him and Henry fighting.)
We have all kinds of stuff planned. Mostly free stuff, too, because we’re smart like that. But before we can do any of this cool stuff, they have to get here.
Brother just asked me the best route for getting through KC and, after much debate and looking at the road construction reports, he decided he’s going to go all the way around the outside.
Brother is the kind of guy who, last time we were all in the B-W had our route planned out to the second. And he would use his humongous calculator (which probably weighed as much as the hiking boots I had opted to leave out at the last second) to ascertain if we were ahead or behind of schedule, and if we could afford to rest at the next portage.
I’m not kidding. He had CHARTS and stuff.
So Brother is, today, trying to come up with his traffic estimate plans and schedule. I happened to mention to him that Google Maps has as traffic option. With this new found gem of information, Brother went basically bonkers.
And I quote:
And so Brother now knows where he will get hung up on slowdowns all the way from Iowa to Texas.
I’ll bet YOUR brother doesn’t know that. Pwn.
In any case, Brother and Laura and Ern estimate their arrival into the Metroplex around 5:30. And that’s including time for rush hour slowdown, of course.
That gives me just enough time to give my house a quick cleaning tonight and go shopping to buy the traditional foods from the store. Traditional foods, you say? Well, Pepsi, Root Beer, Lucky Charms and cinnamon rolls, of course…among other things.
(Basically all the stuff Mom never let us eat much of when we kids but that we got by the pound at Grandma’s house. Except Mom started letting us have cinnamon rolls by the time I got to high school.)
This is Ernie. He belongs to The Brother, but also sort of to The Kid, I think. Anyways, he lives at The Brother’s house.