Often the story that's not true is more interesting, and preferred ...but often it is not preferred. I think it's okay to proceed, but proceed with caution.

I'm often told that I don't get stories straight ...and often I'm not able to get to the end of the story, not because I can't remember; believe me, I can embellish it if I want.  But often I don't finish the story because a diversion arises, becoming a debate over whether I got certain details correct.  So let me say, it was some time ago, and I can't remember all the details; but I'm going to attempt to tell something that I know ...so I'm giving you fair warning, "This is MY story!"   It's only based on a true story.  (I do understand the only true story is by someone who witnesses it ...someone who was there.  I was not there, my brother was ...so his is the factual story.  I will not claim that my story is true ...but I do truly know where I want to take you, so I will begin:)

My brother, Al, was traveling through Canada ...attempting to drive around Lake Superior.  I'm saying 'attempting' because for some reason there was tremendous flooding, and the roads completely washed out.  My brother gave some rather vivid details of the destruction ...but I am just saying he was forced to stay at a Hotel.

Okay, I'm changing the story now. I'm imagining that it's me, not my brother.

And let's say that it's early spring, and my wife wants to go out for ice cream to celebrate our Anniversary.

We head out for ice cream, as we often do ...so nothing new there, but this time we decide to try a new place we'd heard about.   We'd not been there before, but we heard it was real good, and not too far away.  I memorize the directions, so no need to write them down.  I guess that goes hand-in-hand with not needing to know that I make a wrong turn ...and not needing to decide how far I will actually be willing to go before I concede that I possibly made a wrong turn.   Having romantically said that I would have climbed the highest mountain, swam the deepest ocean ...you get the idea; you've all heard that before.  Well, she was enduring the 'longest', without any word of complaint ...but everyone has their limit.  Though some of us really test those limits, and as men are known to do, or known 'not' to do ...as in 'not' asking for directions, nor admitting I was lost.   So one wrong turn led to another ...and soon as we knew it (or didn't know it), we had traveled halfway around Lake Superior.

Cindy is not endeared to these 'great lakes' that appear to be forming around us.  Our car is not getting much traction, and it feels like we are bogged down within some huge banana split.  (I'll leave off my next joke.)  Suffice to say, the only safe haven appears to be that Hotel over there on slightly higher ground ...if I can just quickly make this next turn ...before the road disappears.

Who's desserting who?

Cindy decides to stay in our Hotel room, and prepare for bed, skipping dessert ...but I am set on having that ice cream.  Besides, I feel I'm doing the management a favor, as the power had gone out ...and the Hotel ice cream will go bad if I don't eat it.

As I'm eating my ice cream by candlelight, I'm thinking fond thoughts of Cindy as she prepares for bed just down the hall in our Hotel room.   But those thoughts are interrupted by thoughts of the words exchanged just a few minutes prior.  With that in mind, perhaps it's wise to enjoy the ice cream, slowly, in hopes she will fall asleep before I climb into bed.   I had heard quite enough of her telling me of my stubbornness, dually matched by my arrogance ...which both working in concert, landed us deep into Canada, waiting for the earth to swallow us up.   And what bothers me most about what she'd said ...is that it is all true.