On homework, militiamen, and then again homework

So right now I'm totally stalling on this story I'm supposed to write about San Francisco for my niece Hunter, but I can't stall too long because she lives two hours ahead of me in Oklahoma-Town and needs to print it off sometime before bed tonight. It's a little tale about this paper-man she sent me named Flat Stanley (they claim he's a boy in the story, but I have NEVER seen a boy wear a tie like this), who I took around the ciudad for a few weeks. I initially questioned his sexual orientation (again, his tie) and thought about taking him to the Castro, but in hesitation that her teachers might not interpret his jazz hands the same way I did (nor might they be willing to share such lessons with a room full of second graders), I instead took him to other locales of the so-inclined: the SF Moma, the USS Hornet, Golden Gate Park. The pictures are a blast--again, you REALLY have to see this guy's tie--thank you, Hunter, for a brilliant coloring job--but a story seems to be what the teachers want, and I'm running short on words that are eight-year-old appropriate. As usual.

In other Oklahoma-related news, I just heard today that the state is thinking of forming a militia. Did you hear that? A MILITIA, my friends. And not just ANY militia, but a VOLUNTEER-LED militia. (Is anybody else thinking of Bastille Day or The Handmaid's Tale here?) I know my mother and sister would be appalled at the idea, but what about the rest of the state's voters? Friends, countrymen, ironically take up your arms. We've got a union to protect.

Okay, back to my Flat Stanley homework. Now that I'm doing this, I'm finding it hard to believe I ever made it through high school, let alone as valedictorian. It's KILLING me.

Hugs,
Esss