This past week I was doing up a parcel headed for a gal in Australia. I've made some great friends through blogging and she is one of them. Let's call her Candy. As I was putting things in the box I remembered something else I had for her.
During our many email conversations, Candy wanted to know all about the dreaded moose. She wanted to know how big they were, if I had ever seen one, etc. While #2 and I were out shopping I came upon a moose Christmas ornament. I thought Candy would get a kick out of it so I bought it for her.
When I showed it to Hubby he thought it was a reindeer, not a moose. " Oh, yes it is." I affirmed. " There were reindeer there too. This is definitely a moose." Hubby proceeded to hang the moose up on the pot rack. He's artsy that way. I left it there because then I would know where it was, I reasoned.
Back to the parcel packing. Here's what happened:
Where's the moose? I asked, looking up at the pot rack.
Ah, I broke it. Shame faced, from his comfy chair.
You what? I sputtered.
I broke it.
You did not. Now, where is it?
I broke it, I said.
You're just teasing. Now, where is it?
No, I really did break it.
How did you do that? I kept my head down. I was trying not to laugh.
Well, I had the fly swatter out the other day and I clipped the antler on the moose and it broke off. I tried two types of glue but it just won't stick.
I burst out laughing. Now what am I gonna do?
I'll get another type of glue and try to fix it.
I'm not going to send her a broken moose!
Well, get her another one.
I can't. I bought it in Maine. I confess. It was an American moose. Well, actually a Chinese moose. So there you have it. No moose for Candy. From the Land Down Under. I'm thinking of sending Hubby to her instead.