"What can I blog about today?" I asked the universe. The universe gave no immediate answer, so I put The Boys in the Jeep to make our regular daily visit to Dad and The Girls.

As I paused at the stop sign at the entrance of their neighborhood, to my great surprise, Dad's dingy white cargo van came into view. Only it was coming from the wrong end of the street and was totally unable to maintain a lane, slamming its passenger mirror into a mailbox before swerving past me and continuing back the way I had come up the busy road into town. I turned around and followed the van, contemplating my best course of action to resolve this situation without anyone getting hurt. Fortunately us all, Dad seemed to wise up and pulled the van to a stop on an unmarked gravel driveway. "What are you doing?" I asked when I reached his door. "I don't remember," he answered. The Girls just wagged their tails.

I called my aunt who lives down the street, and she arrived to help me transport Dad, The Girls, and The Boys back to his house, where I sorted out Dad's handful of daily medicines (which he hasn't been taking reliably since last Saturday) and ordered him to bed to resolve this latest bout of parasomnia that sometimes accompanies mistakes with his anxiety, kidney, and heart pills. Then my aunt and I went back to recover the cargo van. Barely had I turned the engine over when I was engulfed in the flashing blue lights of the county sheriff's department and a United States Marshal.

"What can I do for you?" I asked when the Marshal reached my door. He answered, "You can tell me what a stranger in a windowless white van is doing on my private property." Dad couldn't have known, right?

I relate this story only as a public service announcement: Never ask the universe for some entertainment. The universe has a very sick sense of humor.

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