I adore my 2 cats Tica and Trippy. Tica is the grand dame at 14 but is still playful, though she sometimes likes to pretend she doesn't want to play with Trippy, who is about 4. But any time I leave the house, I come back and the couch cushions are eschewed. Sometimes one of them is on the floor.

I also notice that when it's late at night and I'm in bed, I'm often wakened by Mystery Sounds. When morning comes I start to search in the general direction of where I think I heard the noise and discover what has been knocked over or off of a table or countertop.

One day at about 5 AM, they started chasing back and forth in the kitchen, and I later caught Trippy slaughtering a foam peanut. I guess the packing material was her prize of the day and she wanted to make sure it was good and dead by holding it in her front feet and rabbit kicking it with her back feet.

Certainly feline antics are not new to me, as I love cats and have had at least one for most of my life. However, recently I have decided that my cats have a secret addiction.

No, not catnip. Sure they go wacko on catnip, but that's not what I'm talking about. That's no secret to anyone who knows cats.

You see, I was cleaning the house the other day when I found the evidence. Oh, they had hidden their secret antics from me for a few years, but now I'm onto them.

My cats party on the ceiling. I know this now because I have ceiling fans, and the top side of the blades tell the tale...or maybe that's tail. I couldn't believe the amount of cat hair that came onto my static duster.

"Aha!" I exclaimed. "I'm on to you now. I know your game." I think they jump onto the counter and then take a spin on the fan when nobody's looking. That's like us humans going to the amusement park or carnival to take a spin on a tilt-o-whirl or Marry-Go-Round -- Cat Style.

But I know it doesn't stop there. Sure, that accounts for the suspicious locations of the pillows that somehow make it halfway across the room from their couchly home. But it would only account for a small amount of fur on the fan blades. So I know they have another game.

Yes, I'm also convinced that they jump from the entertainment unit onto the fan and ride around, then leap off the fan and onto the couch.

Sure. That must be it. I can't imagine why else there was enough fur to cover four cats clinging to the top side of the ceiling fan blades until I swept it away.

Ronda Del Boccio, The Story Lady of Storyation.com

Did you ever stop and think about what stories you repeat, either aloud or by forwarding an email? What is the message? Here is one I received a few days ago:

The Blind Man, author unknown

One day, there was a blind man sitting on the steps of a building with
a hat by his feet and a sign that read: "I am blind, please help."

A creative publicist was walking by and stopped to observe. He saw
that the blind man had only a few coins in his hat. He dropped in more
coins and, without asking for permission, took the sign and rewrote
it. He returned the sign to the blind man and left. That afternoon the
publicist returned to the blind man and noticed that his hat was full
of bills and coins.

The blind man recognized his footsteps and asked if it was he who had
rewritten his sign and wanted to know what he had written on it. The
publicist responded: "Nothing that was not true. I just wrote the
message a little differently." He smiled and went on his way. The new
sign read: "Today is Spring and I cannot see it." The End.
***
You can read a story on many different levels and take away from it a variety of lessons.

Stop for a moment and ask yourself this question: What message about blindness does this story convey?

Blind beggars used to be commonplace, but in these modern times, is it a good thing to perpetuate that image? I say, "No."

What does this story say to you? Certainly, it highlights the power of marketing to bring about results. That is true, granted, but perhaps there is a deeper layer of meaning. I encourage all of you to consider thoughtfully.

The tale tells me that a man should beg for compensation since he is unable to witness the beauty of the world because of his lack of vision.

I awoke this morning to the soft muzzle of my dog Molly nudging me to take her out. Her plume-tail wagged up a breeze that made me want to stay nestled in the warmth of my covers instead of facing the cold morning. But after a poke in the shoulder and a face washing, I woke up the two cats lying on my chest and abdomen and laughed my way out of bed.

Now that spring is here, some of the birds who left the Ozarks for winter are returning? I heard them this morning. One that I call the "wow-wow" bird because of his song serenaded me this morning. The air smelled crisp, and we though it is often still nippy at this time of year, today's sunshine warmed not only my face, but also my spirit. What a glorious place this is! What a joy to live in the Ozarks!

I do not miss the smell of car exhaust, the crowds, or the sound of sirens I heard every day in the big city.

As I walked Molly, two of my neighbors slowed their cars and talked with me, and in the grocery store, we met several dear friends. There are many wonderful people here in Stone County.

When I am not out enjoying nature, running errands or being entertained by my pets, I delight in creating magical stories, helpful articles, and amusing slices of life for people who love to read. When I'm not writing, I might be coaching people just like you to let your greatness shine. Wen I'm not coaching, I might be preparing three-cheese biscuits or Scottish oat-cakes to delight the taste buds.

In short, life is good. I am not wealthy in the usual way, but I feel richly blessed with loving family and friends, wonderful animals, talents that touch peoples' lives, and a heart full of gratitude. I laugh for no apparent reason sometimes because joy just bubbles up and out of me.

What, you might wonder, does any of this have to do with the story of the blind man? I am legally blind. True, there are a few things I cannot do because of it, like drive a car. But why would I beg to compensate my loss? I am only lacking if I choose to see it that way.

I am even auditioning for an internet reality show called Top Affiliate Challenge (.com) and am delighted to say that I've been on the top 10 leader board since my video went up. I don't believe in can't.

Think about the stories you repeat.

Ronda Del Boccio, The Story Lady of storyation.com

I learn a lot by watching animals. They have tales to tell and lessons to teach for any who have the openness to listen, watch, and learn. Here are some of my latest observations and musings that I hope will demonstrate what I mean.

We have three roosters, each with a different personality and a different voice. Stew often sings at 4:00 AM to herald the dawn before this part of the globe has even thought of circling to it. I will never put him in the stew pot, but he got his name because of his exuberant pre-dawn concerts.

Stew is most definitely lead rooster. He has the "perfect" rooster voice, suitable for featuring in a movie. He also has movie- star looks, as roosters go. He is quite the handsome fellow with bright red plumage. Typical of his kind, he is well aware of his prowess and stature. He struts around and looks after the hens, knowing that he has important work to do.

Another of our roosters is Smoker. His call is not quite like Stew's. It starts out strong and vibrant, then finishes with a crackle that makes him sound as if he is about to go into a smoker's coughing fit. He knows he's not lead rooster, but he is the one I most often see doing sentry duty. He is the one who typically looks for danger and sounding a sort of hiss to alert the flock that he thinks there's a predator nearby. He isn't as bright and handsome as Stew, but he doesn't seem to mind – or even notice.

Smoker may not have "The Look" or "The Sound," but he takes his place in the order of things without giving evidence of envy or ingratitude. He struts around with the others and sings out when the mood to do so is upon him.

The third rooster is colorful Rocky. His gorgeous high-riding tail feathers form an elegant arch. He is most likely the youngest of the three. He tends to let the ladies push him around and nudge him away from the cracked corn.

One of the hens in particular – a snowy-headed compact lady – evidently thinks Rocky should be chased when he's in her vicinity. Rocky rarely asserts himself. He lets the women have their way most of the time.

Until about two weeks ago, Rocky made various chickenly sounds but never crowed. One morning I heard a sound that made me dash out of the house. I thought one of the birds was in horrible pain. Fortunately, there were no injuries.

Upon hearing the strained, "Oh!" I realized that Rocky was learning to sing. Two black hens stood nearby. I urged him to sing out and keep practicing. None of the other chickens or roosters laughed at him or told him to be quiet. None of them said, "Stew sounds so much better than you do."

Rocky didn't seem upset that his call was more a moan than a crow. He sang out several more times that day. In fact, the next day his call sounded a bit less pained. It even had two parts to it instead of just one.

His call is still not the quintessential Rooster Crow, but perhaps it will get there in time. Maybe Smoker will find a vigorous finish to his call one day too.

But even if Smoker forever sounds like he has emphysema and Ricky always sounds like he's in screaming agony, it just wouldn't be morning without the calls of all three of the roosters. I enjoy hearing them all, even if Stew often wakes me up and the other two sound ill.

Perhaps no human choir would accept a member with such a voice as Smoker or Rocky, but as the song says, "All God's critters have a place in the choir."

Everyone has unique gifts, and nobody is better than anybody else because of our talents. Some people have beautiful bodies. Some do not. Some people have the talent to sing or write a story or create magnificent artwork. Some have the talent to help others feel secure. Others are just finding out what talents they have to offer. Whichever of the three roosters

We can learn a lot from nature if we have eyes to see, ears to hear, and brains enough to pay attention.

Ronda Del Boccio, The story Lady of Storyation.com

Relax wit Ronda

What is it about being human that makes it so easy for us to find fault instead of favor?

Here's what I mean.

It is so easy to get caught up in what is wrong with our lives.

Have you ever complained to a restaurant manager about a snotty server, cold food or bad service? Legitimate complaints, perhaps, but how did you react? Were you calm and reasonable, or loud and blustery?

Did you know that a misprint in a schedule ruined two people's lives forever? According to one tourist, it's true. A vacationer waved his arms around in rage and bellowed because he could not go to an area attraction on the day he had planned. The schedule wasn't perfect, and he could not go on the day he planned. He screamed that this travesty had ruined not only his vacation, but his life and the life of his child--FOREVER.

How sad that such a minor thing took on the volume of a mountain. How terrible that he let such a slight change of plans ruin what could be a wonderful Ozark vacation. How tragic that the man is teaching his daughter that life is supposed to be smooth and perfect.

One of my favorite sayings is "Life is what happens when you make other plans." How true! We all know that life isn't perfect and that it isn't going to go smoothly. We all get upset sometimes when we hit a stumbling block, and being reasonable when we're upset isn't always easy, but it is possible.

My observation is that when we get upset beyond all proportion, it is because we are not paying attention to the good things in life. I'm not talking about huge but unlikely good things like winning the lottery, but about the little day-to-day sources of joy and laughter.

Here in the midst of life not being easy, the roosters started singing at 4 AM, thereby deepening my belief that the one with the defective internal clock has corrupted the other. I laughed at them and - ineffectively - told them to be quiet and go back to bed. When I fell asleep I had this wonderfully elaborate dream that will make a page-turner of a story.

The dog woke me out of that dream, urgently needing to relieve herself. As I staggered half-asleep down the hill with her, I enjoyed a decoratively cloud-strewn sky.

While waiting… and waiting to hear back from a publisher about my novel, I got a couple of ideas for articles. Meanwhile, I am finding homes for contest-losing stories and finding ways to encourage people to write.

In the midst of life not being as smooth as a calm sea, I delight in the beauty of the Ozarks. I am so grateful to live here, in a little house in woods, close to family. I gave up the convenience of public transportation that allowed me to go when and where I needed to go, but I do not miss the city.

I have friends who are like family to me living in other parts of the country. As much as I miss our times together, I am so grateful that we are still close. We keep our friendship alive and healthy despite the miles between us.

In the midst of setbacks and delays, I am grateful for the ability to find comedy in my daily life. Watching two chickens try to get through an opening big enough for one makes me laugh no matter how often I see it. Watching Molly play with her leash never fails to crack me up. The daily occurrence of watching my two cats jockey for position on my lap, common though it is, has not lost its charm.

I know that a lot of what happens to me is out of my control. But how I respond to life is completely my choice.

My wish for all of my readers is that you become increasingly aware of the little blessings that grace each day.

Warmly, Ronda Del Boccio, The story Lady of Storyation.com

It always interests me to notice how people use video and/or audio on their websites, but never in a million years did I imagine that this particular image would come to mind as I watched a video on someone's website.

I won't mention the person or the website, because I am truly not making fun of him. My brain TV has a mind of its own I guess. The vivid imagination that helps me write stories and columns makes me laugh a lot, and now, hopefully, you as well.

Imagine this.

You go to a website and the video starts. There is a well dressed man against a milky white background that looks like what you see in the Mac VS PC commercials. It's pure nothing in back of him.

So he starts talking, and his voice echoes. Honestly I mean it REALLY echoes a lot. There is only one type of place that has that same level of echo…

I'm expecting to see his reflection in the mirror above the sink in the men's room!

Would you trust him to give you any sort of guidance if your own mental background had him in the potty? I bet that wasn't the effect he wanted.

OK I'm sure he has the good sense NOT to make a welcome video for his website in a bathroom, but every time I think of it, I start laughing all over again. Someone wanted to take my picture a few days ago, and I HATE having my picture taken. But all I had to do was to think of the bathroom echo video and it looked as if I was having the time of my life.

I imagine that he was in an office with no furniture in it, hence the echo. If he was trying to do the PC/Mac thing, he is short one guy and some cutesy theme music, but that's OK.

Now here's a piece of viral storytelling for you. I've mentioned this mental movie already to a few friends, and now I'm blogging about it. You're reading it, and maybe you'll Digg or Stumble Upon this post, declare it Delicious, or email it to a friend or ten because it tickles YOUR brain TV too. That's how word spreads.

Ronda Del Boccio, The Story Lady

Even though I am mostly blind, I still am able to read with my eyes (as opposed to listening to mp3s or the cassette books from the Talking Book Library). I have a special, weird looking pair of glasses and I have to hold the magazine or book close to me, but that's OK. Now that I'm not in high school anymore, people don't raz me for having weird glasses and holding things in my face.

So anyway, it was more than a year ago when I saw something that got my Brain TV going, and I still laugh about it to this day. That's why I'm sharing it with you now.

There are only a couple of magazines I read. One of them is Writer's Digest Magazine. (I'm a writer - go figure that I'd like a writing magazine!) Sometimes the ads catch my interest. One issue of Writer's Digest Magazine had an ad that caught both my attention and my imagination. Was it for a writing workshop or a book? No. Was it for software or a website? No. Did it have anything to do with writing?

No.

Well… yes I suppose so, but not exactly. The ad was not promoting a skill or technique. It was about junk email. It seems that the folks at Hormel® are unhappy that unsolicited email is called by the name of their unique line of meat food products.

They purchased advertising space in a national writing magazine to plead with WRITERS not to call junk email s p a m. (Don't say it out loud if you're talking about unwanted email) They do not want people to confuse junk email with their unique meat food products. When we refer to s p a m, we should be referring to the food.

When we are talking about the canned meat, the parent company would like us to write it as follows, according to the ad: The SPAM® Family of Products.

Wow – when did that canned meat food have kids? I never knew. I went to the website to see pictures of the family. I thought maybe there would be vacation pictures of little Spammy playing with his brothers and sister Spamela on the beach or standing next to Mickey Mouse at Disney World or something like that.

Maybe there would be a wedding picture of The Spam's, her beaming, him anxious to get the pictures over and done.

No such luck. The Spam Family of products isn't that sort of family. The original meat food - the daddy of them all - is called "Classic." There are five other varieties.

Now let me say that as a writer, I am not afraid to say that my character drank a Coke Zero or ate a Pizza Hut pizza, but I can't imagine having something in a story like this:

"I went to the store to get a can of the Spam(TM) Family of Foods to fix with some Kraft Macaroni and Cheese for dinner." Sure, I can imagine someone might possibly say, "I bought a can of Spam and some Kraft mac and cheese..." but adding the family into the mix just doesn't seem to roll off the brain.

But personally, I think they're missing out on the biggest offenders, and let me tell you, it's not writers. I'll get to that in a second, but in my brief but entertaining research on the four letter meat food, I discovered something that made me laugh out loud.

Did you know that there is a fan club for the meat food substance in question? There is!

I personally haven't eaten anything from the Spam(TM) Family of Products since grade school, but I never thought a food would have a fan club. There are fan clubs for movie stars, singers, television shows, athletes, and even writers – but for the SPAM® Family of Products? How interesting.

Being curious by nature, I decided to play on the web a little. When I typed "food fan clubs" into Google.com's search box, at that time SPAM.COM was the first listing. The fan club may, in fact, be as unique as the product, however now you will not find it listed on page one of Google using that particular search phrase - at least not as of today. Things change quickly online.

The next food related club back when I first did this "food fan clubs" search came two pages later. It was the Food And Nutrition (FAN) club out of the University of Maryland for its students. Having a life, I stopped after looking through about five pages of the "hits" for that search at the time.

But then I realized my research wasn't anywhere near complete. Since I like beef, I'd see if beef had a fan club listed online. No such luck then, but now there are a number of them related to specific restaurants.

Chicken is also tasty (don't tell my flock of chickens!), so that was my next web quest. There is a website called eatchicken.com, but it doesn't have a fan club. There is a headless chicken with an official website several pages long. The immortalized rooster in question has a fan club. Chicken, as a food, does not appear to have a fan club listed on the worldwide web, even now. The food network fan club has chicken recipes, but that's different.

But back to the SPAM® Family of Products. I never imagined that so many writers included junk email in their work that the folks at Hormel® felt they needed to purchase advertising space in a writing magazine to admonish us not to call unwanted electronic communications it sp-m.

Do you think that writers are besmirching their good name by failing to add "family of products" when we mention their canned meat food? Or do you think that maybe it's gone far beyond the occasional use in a short story or article?

I say that junk email will forever be known as -- that meat food. Hormel waited much too long if they were going to throw a stink about having their food associated with junk.

I wonder if they have contacted all the internet service providers and other companies that make sp-m filters to urge them to be clear, and the companies that have sp-m in their names. Taken to its logical extreme, this could get to be like "he who must not be named" in the Harry Potter series.

When I wrote a local newspaper column, one of my articles was about deleting junk email as a way to relieve stress. I'll probably resurrect it here with some freshening up at some point. Anyway, I started to wonder something.

Had I inadvertently offended Hormel® and the SPAM® Family of Products by incorrectly using the name of their product? No. I never linked their food product with junk. Just for fun, I wrote the company to tell them so. The "thank you for writing" email informed me that I will receive a personal response from one of their representatives.

It never happened.

There is a lesson to be learned in all of this. It is a good practice to call something what it is. When a thing is useless junk, we should call it useless junk, not a canned meat food. But if a canned meat food is useless junk...what then?

I'll let you decide.

Ronda Del Boccio, The Story Lady

I love watching animal antics. I especially enjoy animals that stay close to me, since I can't see them well if they're very far away. I am grateful for being able to hear them and see at least some of their ways.

When we started raising chickens, the cats, the dog and the humans have a new form of entertainment. Chicken TV. Yes, we started raising chickens, and they are better than any situation comedy on television. We don't have many now, thanks to foxes deciding our flock was the country buffet, but I miss the flock so much. I never knew how fun they were until we raised them (for eggs).

At first I thought one of the roosters had a broken internal clock. Reveille arrived at 5:30 AM, when the moon was fairly high in the sky and the sun was but a promise. I wasn't about to open the coop at that hour, and I wondered whether the rest of the flock would be deaf after listening to so much exuberant noise in close quarters.

Hollywood lies. Go to a movie and tell me how many times the rooster in any film crows.

ONCE.

They lie.

Not that this is a surprise, but...How often do you think roosters really sing? If you've never been around chickens, you might not know that roosters only crow once in the movies. But in real life, they cut loose whenever they feel like it, and ours could go on and on for hours, often in sets of ten or twelve.

I really don't mind the noise, but I admit that I've had to readjust my own night-owlish tendencies to be sure I'm up early enough to let the flock out and feed them. For the last couple of days, our morning song has come at 6:30, so I think the rooster has initiated his own time setting, which I call Rooster Standard Time or RST.

True Morning comes when the roosters say it comes.

We had another rooster with a faulty voice. If he were human, I'd say he must be a heavy smoker. Oh, his call started out strong and proud as any rooster, but at the end if faltered into a pathetic staccato noise that makes me think he's about to have a coughing fit.

We had three youngsters who all sleep in the window sill of the coop. During the day, they were constantly peeping and walking in a line. I guess their mother told them to line up wherever they go or something. They also loved the little patch of tall grass by my house. So did the semi-resident bunnies.

The second day we had the chickens, I learned what it was like to break up a broody hen. When I went in to collect eggs, one of the hens was happily clucking in one of the nest boxes. I reached beneath her, said, "Excuse me," and removed two eggs. The hen, who I call Latte, stayed where she was.

Later I came in with fresh straw for the nest boxes, and there sat Latte, eggless but broody nonetheless. She really wanted to sit on eggs apparently. She cackled disagreeably when I tried to nudge her out, so I took a handful of straw and pushed it in. The indignant cacophony she let out during the poultry equivalent of swearing at me was hilarious. She fluffed out her wings and stomped out of the coop. Now that's fowl language! No guesswork there about what she was telling me.

We always know when the girls are laying an egg, because they raise a ruckus that lasts several minutes. I can understand. Expelling a large object from my body would make me yell too.

Two of the younger females gave us their first eggs, which I found on the floor of the nesting area. Twelve nice nests with fresh straw and they lay an egg on the hard wood floor. Nobody ever accused chickens of being bright. At least they were inside the coop.

When I was working at the computer writing or in the living room watching a TV program, I often heard and saw several chickens cooing, pecking, feasting on bugs, stretching, and otherwise entertaining themselves. They knew where most of the snacks come from. Since I work from home, I'm around to notice the local animal antics and dole out snacks whenever I want to take a 3 minute break.

They had flock parties in various locations under the trees, at my place, behind my mom's house, or down the hill. Then they would go off in twos and threes, or sometimes alone, to forage for bugs and frogs or have a dirt bath. Then it's party time again. They liked to be around us if we're out on the property.

See, you never know what will become a Brain TV moment. The more you turn on your own Brain TV, the more imaginative and magical programming you enjoy.

Ronda Del Boccio, The Story lady

continue reading

The things that go on inside my head are often WAY more interesting than anything on television. Oh sure, I watch some TV, but as a writer and storyteller, the little movies that play inside my head give me - and others - hours of fun.

It all starts with something that really happens to me as I go about my day.

This morning I was starting to lead a conference call with people who are learning how to write a book. I said "Good morning," and my rooster Dartanian chimed in with a big old happy song for us. Everyone laughed and thought that was a great way to start the call. I said I'd do my best to arrange for him to give us the Morning Sing every Monday and help us get the week off to a great start.

As you can imagine, I live in the country. Dartanian is a Rhode Island Red Rooster who recently got his adult voice installed by the manufacturer. Right before the call, I tossed him some cornbread crumbs, which he loves. He was kind enough to share his appreciation with me and several people across the US and Canada.

Dartanian doesn't realize it, but he knows a thing or two about how to get a message across. No, it's not just about crowing as loudly as you can. He does it differently. He positions himself to make sure his song is big, loud and proud.

Let your own BRAIN TV have some fun with this. My handsome young rooster does something that no other rooster I know does. He actually seeks out the places he can stand to make his voice heard.

I live in the Missouri Ozarks, where rolling hills create fun sound-bouncing effects. There are a few places that Dartanian KNOWS will give him the maximum output for his songs of joy. I've witnessed him crow, take a step forward or backward, crow again, turn to one side and crow again. When he finds the sweet spot that makes his call echo the most, he stands there and offers an extended concert.

He finds what I call his "Singin' Hole," where he sings until he has no more to say.

My Brain TV takes over and has fun with this...

Let's say you are going into a meeting for work and everyone's wishing they were someone else. imagine what fun you all could have if you decided to fold your arms up like wings and cut loose with a great big "cock-a-doodle-DOO!"

What about you? Do you have a Singin' Hole? What Brain TV played in your head as you read about Dartanian the Rooster?

Ronda Del Boccio, The Story Lady

I had never been to Canada until 2006, though I had been working with a few Canadians "virtually" for several months. It was fantastic to meet people in person who I'd worked with via phone and internet in my role as a coach, part of a global team.

But I had a little "fun" on the way home at the border. I laughed a lot about it when it was over--in fact, I entertained the shuttle passengers for a good half hour, so the power of humor was alive and well on the Robert Q shuttle that day as we made our way to the Detroit airport.

Some people love the fact that their job enables them to be particular with people. They can take their job to an extreme when it just isn't that big a deal. Now, I understand caution and all, but this was just amazing.

One passenger on the shuttle from Sarnia to Detroit made the hideous mistake of bringing apples with her and of not knowing where they were grown.

Evidently our growly border guard thought that 2 gala apples brought over from Canada might cripple the US population. Now, we were crossing at lunch time, so I'm sure he figured someone would have fruit. He gave this poor passenger grief because she had apples and didn't know where they were grown.

Let me ask you this. Do you know where every piece of fruit you purchase comes from? I certainly don't. How often do you go to the store and study exactly where your fruit was grown? So he took them from her. A couple of apples from someone's lunch – which were destined to be consumed within the next hour and no trouble to anybody at that point – were confiscated that day.

So now I wonder, did he eat them himself or did they become trash? I think perhaps he wanted a snack.

This same border guard gave me grief because I didn't know what was on the sandwich I had. Well, I didn't because I hadn't packed it. Glenn's wife had been kind enough to include cut vegies and sandwiches for the 2 of us who were riding the shuttle across the border.

Why didn't I just say "turkey' or something? I didn't want to make it up at the border. I figured if I said "turkey" and it was ham or something else, he would have given me problems for lying.

I wanted to say, "Just give me five minutes and I'll eat this sandwich and it will be of no more concern to you. " But I was good. I kept my filter firmly in place and only shared my commentary after we were well on the road again.

So anyway, he guard inspected the sandwiches. Quite thoroughly too. I wondered if he would inspect all the luggage, which he could have. But he didn't.

I found out later from the shuttle driver that it was beef he was concerned about.
We might have had beef…Not a side of beef stored in a cooler, but a slice or 2 of beef that might have appeared on a sandwich.

I can see the headline now, "US Population decimated by lunch meat."
I don't think 1 or 2 slices of beef would contaminate the food supply of the US either. Do you? But so it goes.

We had to wait almost a half hour just for the guard to come interrogate - er...I mean...question -- everyone. One person missed her plane because of the delay.
Thank you, Mr. Border Guard, for giving me such an entertaining story!

Ronda Del Boccio, The Story Lady