Hit It

Jack and I are best friends, soul mates, kindred spirits. We complete each others sentences, we relish our time together, talk constantly, and can't stand to listen to each others music. Can't stand is harsh, I can't stand his music, he tolerates mine. I chose Frank Sinatra, John Denver, Billie Holiday, Lucy Kaplansky, Amos Lee and Jackopierce. He listens to what I call NFM, Nebraska Folk Music. Not what you might think, this is a skinny white kid from a small town in Nebraska who loves R. Kelly, Kanye West, Ice T (I always get this wrong, is he the guy on Law and Order?), Korn, Pearl Jam, Rob Zombie and a host of others whose names I can never think of.

One day in Kansas City I ran into the drug store to buy bug lotion. He took this opportunity to change the music. From the backseat Mary asked "what is a flo'? Why are they hitting the flo'?". So began the explanation, flo' is floor and to hit it means to go there, to hit the floor. "Does it hurt to hit the flo'? Did it hurt the flo'?" More explanation. From Kate, "We can hit Paris". More explanation. I get in the car. "Did you hit the store?". They're getting it, what I have no idea.

When we arrived home Kate walked in the house and said "I need to hit the bathroom". Understood.