Doesn't that sound like a creepy little-kids' book title?
Holly posted this somewhere.
Things to do when I get my braces off:
1. Have corn on the cob like all the time
2. Go to Shoney's and get like a ton of gum from their really cool 25¢ gum machine
3. Eat carrots until my skin turns orange
4. Mess with big Wax lips without getting nasty red on my braces
Who I'd like to meet:
A hobo that's actually jumped at least one train.
And maybe a robot with lavender hair named Simon.
She had the first part, up to the carrots a couple of weeks. Her braces do come off in April. But that's not why I brought it over here. She posted on Tuesday night that she would like to meet a hobo who'd jumped a train. (I believe "hopped a train" is the technical term, the idiomatically proper phrase, but...)
Wednesday night my troublesome younger half-brother, born when I was old enough to use birth control responsibly and my mother was not, called me from Buda, Texas. Last time he called he was either in Alaska or Montana. He changed his story partway through because sometimes it's hard to keep the lie straight. But now he's in Texas, and one of the stories he had to tell was that he was trying to get to New Orleans and was arrested for riding in a box car and put in jail in Del Rio or some such place. I was thinking maybe two days. No, he served 45 days of a 90 day sentence. He sweet-talked and guilted a female judge to let him out early.
So I'm telling Holly what Justin said, and she got big eyes because she had JUST posted less than 24 hours before that she wanted to meet someone who had hobo-fied a train ride. Ta-daaa.
My mom had an uncle who died, during The Depression, jumping out of a boxcar before it quite stopped, as they were wont to do, we understand. My granny said once that he was probably pushed because he had done it too much not to be able to do it right.