Lookin' Pretty in the Black Hills

When we lived in the Black Hills of South Dakota, we liked riding the forest roads -- dirt road, one-lane roads, don't-see-anyone roads. On one such trip -- a "we've got an hour to kill before a meeting; hey let's drive into the Hills" trip -- we got a flat tire. We're AAA members. No worries, right? Wrong. Outside of the towns, there are only three spots in the Black Hills which have cell phone coverage. We were not in one of the spots.

We guessed correctly where the spare "donut" tire was. The manual let us know the jack was in the glove compartment. My hubby lay on the rocky, dusty ground while I was to read the instructions to him. Only, I didn't have my glasses. I held the manual at arm's length, reading slowly, word by mistaken word. Time's ticking. My husband needed to be back in town for his meeting. He stood up, grabbed the book from my hands, and said, "Just stand there and look pretty."

So I did. I wonder, though: Is looking pretty in the woods when there's no one around, the same concept of "if a tree fell in the woods and there's no one around...?"