That's different...

This morning as Noah and I were cruising along to the babysitter's house (which, on a sunny morning is actually a pleasant task; dewey, glistening field are lovely in the early a.m.), I saw something you just don't see every day.

A little old lady was pulling a newspaper out of its box at the end of her driveway. She probably towered 4', 11" or so (I can relate) and had a curve in her back that gave her a hunched-over appearance. Her fuzzy white hair was waving in the breeze and her floral bathrobe whipped about her legs. She had her paper in hand and was doing the old-people shuffle toward her vehicle idling 10 feet away at the end of the driveway, which upon second glance I noticed was rather long. This part was all normal.

And then I let my eyes slide toward the vehicle she was about to climb into. It was a mammoth black beast of a truck, the kind of truck that would make my husband look like the mini people you see on take off or landing out of an airplane window. My Monday-morning brain slowly processed what was happening... this tiny lady was about to hike herself up and into a tank-sized vehicle and back on up the driveway to her house. I wondered 1) How does she reach the pedals? and 2) is that the only vehicle she owns? and 3) What in the world does she need with a gigantic, gas-guzzling truck?

I was disappointed that I whizzed by before she reached the open door of the truck. I was really hoping to watch her hitch up her leg and crawl in. It would have been even more fun to watch her in action behind the wheel. How does she see over the steering wheel anyhow?

Weird. That's Monday for you.