We went to a farmer's market yesterday and bought about five different types of beautiful tomatoes from deep purple to yellow as well as fresh basil and I've just walked down to the local coop to purchase cheese.
And I'll be making those tomato pies tonight. We're waiting on Jessie and Vergil and Greta to arrive to start throwing those babies together.
Greta is just the finest dog. She is still a puppy but just as calm and chill as any dog I've ever met. Here's what she looked like after we walked her down to the farmer's market and back.
She was so cute on the walk. Her only small sin was that every time she saw a nicely mown yard, she insisted in sprawling in it belly-down for a moment of total sensory joy. Then she'd leap back up and continue on. Yep. She's a fine dog and I'm proud she's my grand dog. Vergil even took her to work with him today and reported that she was very well behaved. And yes, in Asheville you can take your dog to the office.
Okay. They've arrived with the tomatoes.
The Last Supper will now commence. It's time for me to go home. I miss my man, Hank may have cellulitis, there's going to be a party at my house on Sunday for Billy and Shayla and I'm babysitting Gibson on Saturday. I talked to Owen today and I said, "I miss my sweetheart SO much!"
"I know," he said.
And I hear he made his mother pretend to be me.
Time to go home indeed.