Last night I finally had to go out to the garage to collect my husband for martini purposes. I am quite capable of making my own but I don't like to get started without him so I closed the chickens up, walked over to the garage, opened the door, walked through three bays and finally found him sitting in the engine well of one of the Camaros, fiddling with wires.
"What are you doing?" I asked him.
"Trying to figure out this damn wiring," he said.
He had no idea what time it was and in fact, had thought I was still asleep because when he'd left the house HOURS EARLIER I'd been taking a nap.
"Lord, honey," I said. "I wasn't that tired."
Today was a good day. Jessie, August, and Levon came out to visit and since Jessie had told them in no uncertain terms that they would not be watching TV while they were here, not to even bother to ask, they asked immediately if we could read books.
"You bet!" I said.
But first they found the bag of fireball jawbreakers that their grandfather had bought on his journey back from Tennessee. Do not ask me why. Of course they HAD to try them, despite Jessie and I warning them. At first they shared one.
Yes. Yes we did.