Thursday, November 12, 2015

No Complaints

Sun shining awful pretty and I took a walk and it felt good. I ran into Ms. Shelly who once again told me the story of how she had to take care of babies and cook food and pick every sort of crop from the time she was five years old and she never even learned to ride a bike because she was too busy being a grown-up. She even had to be in the room with her mama when she had her babies (twelve in all) until the midwife got there, at least.
She is bitter and I understand why.
My life was a fucking picnic compared to that.
I wonder if Ms. Shelly ever got to go on a picnic in her entire life.

Anyway, yes, a beautiful day and I'm going to the store to buy things to make pizza and purple cows for the boys, the boys, the Owen and Gibson boys and what am I going to do with them all weekend? I was thinking of bribing them to help me in the yard a little by promising to take them to the Farm Supply store in Monticello because they have wonders there, they do, at the Farm Supply store.
Oh, we shall see.

And I have them this afternoon, too, before the Great Weekend and perhaps we shall make a plan.

It is a beautiful day, clear blue and the birds are tweeting and everything is fine.


  1. My son and I have long fond conversations about the Farm Supply place near his orchard. They carry boots and mittens and hay and horse tack and seeds and I love its fragrance and interesting.

  2. A weekend with little boys calls -- hmmm. I'll think about that today and perhaps have some suggestions, although I imagine that you will entertain and care for them with your usual aplomb.

  3. Owen and Gibson for the weekend! There will be little boy "sayings" galore. Repeat them here if you can. Those boys are like little wise and very funny Buddha's.


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