Sunday, at the Field Museum, we walked through a display of Chinese dinosaur remains, the little packets of soy sauce having not survived. Imagine my delight, or look at it for yourself if you click the above picture, when I stumbled upon Laurasia on the map. In theory, this is how the Northern Hemisphere looked before America dissed China's fortune-filled after-dinner treat as a hoax peddled by one stale cookie, and citing better results with The Psychic Friends Network...this, naturally, led to unflattering Dionne Warwick parallels which could be neither defended nor denied, so the land masses decided to part ways, never to cohabitate the the same continent again. Thank goodness we're at least on speaking terms again, but there are times when it still feels as though we're oceans apart.

But, back to Laurasia: once upon a time, I was a big clumpy mass!

(That seemed a lot more prestigious in my head than it does out.)



Nick managed a spot of amusement, as you can see. The skeletons of super-sized lizards entertained him substantially more than college basketball, as I could note from his state of "awake" throughout the exhibit. I have a theory, actually, that he only owns such a staggering collection of Wisconsin Badger apparel for the sole reason of distracting his acquaintances from his altogether froufrou interests. He is a little too overzealous on his fanaticism for it all to be real, you know what I mean? Me thinks he doth protest too much—but in reverse. I am waiting for the day that I uncover the entire DVD collection of A&E's Romance Classics in his condo. I'll out him yet...if it's the last thing I do.

Our day at the Field Museum was done in place of a shopping spree at Ikea, a place I have heard of in myth, and, well, budget-conscious home decorating television programs...but a place to which I have never been. Another time, perhaps. Before another outing with Nick, I must reconcile myself to the fact that he conjures punchlines (Although inferior to mine, I must say!) at a much quicker rate, and any utterance of my version would seem pat and overdone.

Poo.

I'm funny, dang it—even if it is pathetic that I had to look in the mirror and tell myself so no less than 7 times after I returned home from our trip. Granted, my humor often elicits groans in place of laughter, but I am perfectly adjusted to this happenstance. There is but a select group who "get" my humor, and now that my mother has left the ranks, I must continue to amuse the rest of us, namely myself, in her absence.

But Nick!—Nick doesn't even afford me the respect of groaning audibly! Come on! What is that!? Like it takes any time at all to groan! We were walking from the parking ramp to the Field Museum elevators, and, noting our parking area, he said, "It's 1-B."

"You've just answered the age-old question," I replied.
"What's that?"
"Well, it's definitely not 'to be'."

That so deserved something...but no. Dead silence.

So yes, this reconciliation is a precursor to adventure number two with Nick to the land of all things inexpensive—and whoa, my heart just skipped a beat there...reconciliation may be quick. I really am funny. Really. Aren't I? At least a little? Somewhat?

I need a hug.

The Field Museum though! The Dinosaur Dynasty! Yes, that's what this post is about! (Fooled ya, didn't I?) There were stations situated this way and that, outfitted with a red button that, when pushed, correctly pronounced the station's spotlighted dinosaur, along with its region of origin. After Nick pressed the button at a particular site the eighth-ish time, I was fairly certain that he was being irritating, not interested. It took the ninth depression to lock in my suspicions, however. The kicker is that I remember neither the dinosaur nor its home. You shoulda gone for an even ten, Dear.



And what I learned from the exhibit? Mostly that Nick is in his element with the non-responsive...but also that the Chinese are very sensitive about their fortune cookies.