So, I’m going about my normal daily routine: wake up and stumble to the coffee pot. Actually this is right after I stumble somewhere else, but I didn’t think that was a detail you needed to hear. So I have my coffee, freshly made by Gene of course. He is so good to me, and he gets up earlier than me. Next, I grab the newspaper off the front porch to see what news I might have missed. Mostly I read it for the comics and local sports. The rest of the news I’ve probably already seen on the internets.

Time to check email. The usual newsletters, and not much else. But wait! Why do I have email from the Omaha World-Herald. I don’t subscribe and it wasn’t marked as spam. I can see by the preview that my brother Richard has sent me a story. Actually a link, but I can already tell by the subject line I am going to see Carhenge, whether I like it or not. I’ve already sent flowers to my brother, thanking him for his kindness.

Carhenge is the scourge of my little town. Most people seem to think we could have done without this little tourist attraction, especially when it is #2 on the list of wackiest places to visit. Here’s a little quote from the World-Herald article:

The only attraction deemed wackier than Carhenge is the toilet seat museum in San Antonio that features more than 800 decorated toilet seat lids but no bathroom.

BUT the rest of the world loves it. I’ve had visitors from three foreign countries, and several US states, and they have ALL wanted to see Carhenge. One of them in a blizzard and one of them even wanted to go straight from the airport.

And let me tell you about this straight-from-the-airport visitor. He lives in England. Ninety minutes from Stonehenge! Ninety minutes that he had never found, for gawd’s sake, to visit Stonehenge. And now it was top priority to see Carhange? Kids these days! Now I admit it is unique, but not worthy of the homage it has received. In the end it was good we had gone from the airport as things changed drastically in the next days. Princess Diana died. This young man was devastated. This young man felt so alone in a foreign country that doesn’t have royalty. A country that is thousands of miles from where he wanted to be. We were glued to the television for days.

I don’t know if my brother, Richard, has ever seen Carhenge or Stonehenge for that matter, but I can guarantee that the next time he comes to visit I WILL give him the royal tour. Oh, and I lied about the flowers.

Footnote: Yes, I borrowed the photo of Carhenge, but just until I can drive out there to take my own, which I’m sure will be very soon.

crick·et [krik-it] Pronunciation Key – Show Spelled Pronunciation[krik-it] Pronunciation Key

–noun – a game, popular esp. in England, for two teams of 11 members each that is played on a field having two wickets 22 yards (20 m) apart, the object being to score runs by batting the ball far enough so that one is enabled to exchange wickets with the batsman defending the opposite wicket before the ball is recovered.

- noun - Cricket – yes she was a 1980’s Playmate doll.  She came with a tape recorder built in so she could be a real playmate for little girls everywhere. She had lots of accessories you could get – different outfits and additional casette tapes – and you could style her hair. You certainly remember her, along with the Rainbow Brites and My Little Pony. And who can forget Strawberry Shortcake. We had SS at our house, and not Cricket, but this story isn’t about SS. It is about Cricket.

–noun-Any of various insects of the family Gryllidae, having long antennae and legs adapted for leaping. The males of many species produce a shrill chirping sound by rubbing the front wings together.

Yes this story is about a cricket – more specifically, one that fits the last definition – the one that makes the shrill chirping sound….

….in the middle of the night, while I am trying to sleep.

He’s been living at our house for a couple of weeks now. He seemed to like the family room and lived somewhere behind or under the couch, but Gene helped him pack up his stuff and move to the area behind the entertainment center. (Are you seeing a theme to our lives? – helping people/things move from one location to another.) Gene told me just the other day that he thought Jiminy had moved on to another house or the great outdoors, or somewhere other than the family room.

Yep, somewhere other than the family room – our bedroom!!! I’m not sure why Gene didn’t hear him, but I certainly did as I was trying to go to sleep. I couldn’t find him in the dark to help him move and I didn’t want to wake Gene up by turning on the light, so I just tried to have a nice quiet conversation with him, suggesting he find a different bedroom. I didn’t quite understand his answer since I don’t speak Cricketese, but I think he said “NO”. How rude of him. Doesn’t he know who’s in charge?

Well, at least he’s a loner. So far, I haven’t heard any of his bug cousins like a mosquito or a fly, or, heaven forbid, a wasp.  Knock on Wood

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