First in Pascagoula at a Case Managers Round Table meeting with the county's long term recovery agency, while examining the powdered doughnuts:
"Well you need to talk to your boss," said angry lady at the table, head tilt and chair swivel included.
"Ooooohhhhh," cried the entire room, a la seventh grade.
Then after eating a bowl of raisin bran in Gautier:
Me: "Hey, what's on fire over there?"
Mical: "I am...." (insert cheesy visual of Mical using both hands to point his fiery self out)
Me: "No really, what's on fire back there?"
Mical: "Oh. That's our neighbor's burn pile."
Hilarious laughter ensues.
Next over lunch at Diamondhead:
"Why is it so freaking hot here," asked a sweaty Erin.
"You shoulda been here last week," said an even sweatier Kerry, while sporting some serious John Cusak hair and wearing a PDA shirt with the sleeves ripped off, a la 1983.
"Where's your T-top Camero, Kerr," questioned my internal dialogue.
Late in the afternoon, while munching on girl scout cookies in Pearlington:
Volunteer number one: "Hey Becca, where do we recycle these?"
Becca: "We don't recycle"
Insert Erin's knowing glance.
30 seconds later:
Volunteer number two: "Hey Becca, is 504 the area code for New Orleans?"
Volunteer number two: "Oh, because I can't get through on my cell to this number in New Orleans......(blah, blah, blah).....sooooo"
another 30 seconds later:
Volunteer of the day: "Hey Becca, do we make coffee at night here?"
Becca, to volunteer : "Um, sure. You guys can if you want to. "
Becca, to me, as if I were the volunteer: "Um, you're in charge here. "
The voices in my head, to me: "Becca's a freakin' saint!"
Finally, at our weekly Monday night BBQ, back in Gulfport, safe and sound, while trying to eat some delicious Wavy Lays potato chips:
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH," shrieked Brenna and Erin as an extremely dangerous set of love bugs attacked our chip bowl.