As Promised:

Two gems of stories, both from our recent Jackson adventures. 

#1.

This story has three parts: nail polish, a diamond ring, and Spanish man. You're intrigued already; I can tell. 


We'll start with the nail polish. Mom accidentally dropped a bottle of older sister Jenna's polish, and it smashed and spilled. In her attempt to gloss it over, she just stood on the new pink spot on in the parking lot and avoided the topic until....


Spanish man! What would you say if a guy at a gas station randomly asked you, "¿Habla español?" Well if you speak Spanish, as does my father, you would of course respond with a "Si" and proceed to help the poor man connect with the bus that ditched him there. This did happen, and we all think it was a two-way blessing: Spanish man found help where he probably least expected it, and we stayed at the station long enough for Mom to finally tell Jenna about the lovely new spot on the cement. Which takes us to....


The diamond ring. While casually mentioning the story of Jenna's polish, Mom looked down at her hands and realized that she was missing her wedding ring. ACK!, right? Upon a fairly quick dig through the nearest trash can, we found it wrapped up in some paper towels which had been used to clean up the polish. With Mom no longer hyperventilating, we snapped some quick pics to capture the fond memories and headed on our merry way. 

I think we can learn some valuable lessons from this, but the most important is definitely this: learn Spanish, and never avoid the truth. 

#2. 

This story is absolute hilarity. Unfortunately, there are no illustrations. Just use your imagination.

Because our first room had waterlogged carpet near the windows, we were offered a new one that happened to be right next to the "Honeymoon Cottage." It was late when we checked in, and three of us sisters were already in the new room getting unpacked. Little sister Rye had not yet joined us, and was soon coming with the padres. For a funny joke, Dad decided to take her outside the door of the Honeymoon Cottage and declare it our new room. Without questioning it, she promptly knocked on the door. I'm sure it was decently loud, as she was expecting it to hold her three dear sisters. Not expecting such unwavering trust in their judgment, my parents did what any good pranksters would do: they bolted.

You gotta admit, it's classic. 

And the lesson from that second story is this: never honeymoon at the Rustic Inn in Jackson Hole, WY. You might just get some unexpected visitors.