Family Feathers

The story of Randi Hope is one that must be told.  I've referred to Randi several times throughout my writings, but one must know the real story of how Randi Hope came to be.  Most families have a pet or two - normally these are cats or dogs, even fish or birds.  Then there are those that live on the outskirts of civilization that have their own private zoos with exotic creatures that both excite and frighten children all at the same time.  My family is caught somewhere between those two ends of the spectrum.   We are a normal family, in a normal house, with a normal life.  But tucked away inside these facades of normalcy are multiple pairs of little loving eyes hanging upside down from a carefully placed limb, lounging about on the roof or even running full circles on a tiny plastic wheel deep within my daughter's bedroom.   We never set out with any goals to procure these creatures... they simply find us.  If there is an injured animal anywhere around, its internal GPS will

"Medium Coke, light ice, one napkin."  This is my early morning drive-thru ritual.  I pull up in my comfy car, Van Morrison spills from the window, I recite that short order, pay my $1.10, pull through and am out in 42 seconds.  I have it down to an art form.   It's so easy.    During my twelve seconds in front of the menu board, I glance over at the dollar menu and think, "How nice that you can feed a family of four for $12 or less"..... UNLESS it's my family. Just entering the drive-thru with my car full of family members and friends brings on an anxiety that must resemble what dogs feel like days before a giant earthquake.    I've always considered myself a confident woman who can handle most any situation with common sense and a good up-bringing.  But... a trip through the drive-thru instantly strips me of any skills I have of maintaining order.  I do attempt to take control and keep the madness at bay.  I have good skills.  I use them wisely.