The Memphis Zoo

Okay here's one to save for posterity or at least a good story for friends.

My dear friend Kim--see links to other bloggers--and I were spending the morning at the Memphis Zoo (a weekly pastime to keep the kids from realizing there's two of us and three of them). It was a lovely morning (unlike the norm in Memphis which is something like 95 and 2 billion% humidity--okay, slight exaggeration), and because of this we had decided to trek through the petting-part of the zoo (with the heat/humidity one can only imagine the stench of farm animals and their poo). On the way towards that trek, I noticed a child's wallet (did I mention it was the last week of school--also a freakish thing about Memphis--the schools get out in MAY, possibly the only good thing about my moving the San Diego); it had "Nick" printed in the block lettering of a fifth or sixth grader (hold that thought, my daughter's crying--okay, back now). So, I picked it up, and noticed all the one dollar bills neatly placed in the bill-holding portion (is there a formal name for that, or am I just to call it the bill-holding portion?). Kim and I felt so sorry for "Nick" (all names have been changed to protect the innocent--okay, not really). We began making up stories "poor Nick, he saved all his lawn-mowing money for this trip to the zoo, and all he wanted was to purchase a stuffed animal, and now his money's lost." During this time I began digging (it was my duty as a mother, and fellow zoo patron) through "poor Nick's" wallet, finding more and more money as I went along. I finally thought to search for ID--not sure why this didn't come up first. Instead of a school identification card I found a little baggy--full of POT! Looks like "poor Nick" had a job! Kim laughed uneasily as I smelled it--hey, it could've been oregano or something--one can never be too careful.

Long story short--I turned it in, received no reward or recognition (save for the praise I receive on this humblest of blogs), and now I have to think about ol' "Workin' Nick". What shall become of you my friend?

In all the tellings of this story (it's a good one, and I've told it plenty), the question I've been asked most is this "did you keep the cash or maybe smoke the pot?". To you who wonder: neither; it was crap weed and my running, conscience (and more importantly, relationship with Christ) would've suffered.