In the interest of full disclosure, there's some information I must divulge about Bet. I hope you're sitting down, and if you take heart medication, please make sure you didn't miss today's dose.
Ok, comfy and medicated?
Bet has a problem. It isn't her fault at all--it's congenital. Hereditary, actually. She doesn't bear the brunt of the problem in solitude, but is able to get out with others and partake in "celebrating" the disease together. Since her entire family is afflicted, they'll often head out en masse and meet up with other families and individuals who share the same qualities that Bet does.
Sadly, but not surprisingly, Bet passed this dominant gene onto both of her children. I was hoping against hope that at least one of them would turn out "normal," but it wasn't to be.
The reason I bring this up is that yesterday I tried to call Bet, and when she answered her cellphone, I could tell she was in the middle of a major outbreak. In fact, I'm not sure how she managed to answer the phone at all. Her voice was quaking, her breathing heavy. I could hear yelling in the background.
"Hey, how's it going?"
"I just (something something) the slope."
"I just jumped onto the ski slope! Call you back later!"
Yes, dear gentle reader, Bet is a "skier." The only known cure is to break both your legs and your back. The cure is worse than the affliction, I guess, since so many people are evidently still sick, judging by all the people on the ski slopes around here.
Poor Bet. She ties sticks to her feet and slides down mountains.
But really, now that we've disclosed the fact, we all feel much better, right?
Hey Bet, you forgot to call! Are you okay?!!!
(PS: chickens in winter post is coming soon!)