Last week Ryan and I went to the grocery store to buy s'mores supplies for a campfire we were planning. We had to buy pink marshmallows, pseudo-graham crackers called "Honey Crack" or something like that and "Carlos VI" milk chocolate bars. It wasn't what you'd call "classic s'mores," but that was expected. What was not expected, however, was the 60 pound bag of oranges that fell on my foot as I casually turned around to eye an extremely short family. You have to realize that we are tall in Mexico. I'm 5'6'' and sometimes I feel like a giant (which I might be if Ryan and I combined last names - the Giants!). Ryan, as you might assume, is even more akin to Gulliver than I. So I glanced back to see at what point of his body the tops of their heads would reach. Serves me right. I continued walking as this massive, mesh bag of naranjas falls to the ground directly at my feet. I trip, almost catch myself, and then bam! Right onto the floor I fall. All the way to the ground in the produce aisle of a Mexican grocery store. Two horrified producemen rush to my aid as I laugh - still a little confused - and repeat "No! Estoy bien! Estoy bien!"
Also, we visited the United States twice since we last wrote on this blog. Here are some visuals:
|Granny and the babes|
|Besties cerca 1986|
|Grandma and Ash|
|Mama and Baby|
|Grammy and Noa Bug|
|The Bryant-Nerren Clan getting cozy at the park|