Rum old fashioned, with Mt. Gay XO. Try it sometime.
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On the way back, via a different, even more rural route that is perhaps a few miles longer, 80 white pickup trucks.
Another about 15 miles out to the dam site we’re surveying today, through mostly rural country, and another 79 white pickup trucks seen. That works out to about 5 white pickups per mile.
Trying to find a lost flashlight in the dark.
Eat your heart out, Alanis.
We went to the nursery this morning to pick out all the tomatoes and peppers we’re going to have in the garden this year–and as we were leaving it of course started thunder-storming, with the occasional blast of hail. Murphy was an optimist, after all. Now I guess to just cower inside and hope the power doesn’t cut ou
Well, for the moment, anyway. The truck was developing some, shall we say, spark plug issues, so it got left down at my Uncle’s place to get wrenched on, and I drove my Grandpa’s Buick back to use and to get the interior detailed (it’s pretty dusty/dirty inside–it lived in Grandpa’s dirt-floored shop) for possible future sale. Pretty posh inside, leather seats, dual “climate zones,” and–AMAZING!–a CD player! It even works! For a ’98, that’s more impressive than you might think.
Hopefully the truck doesn’t take too long, because, as nice as this is, I don’t like sitting so close to the ground when I’m whizzing along on the interstate…
I brought the puppy in to work with me today, since she’s supposed to be taking it easy after her operation and was showing no signs of wanting to take it easy with the two schnauzers left home without adult supervision. My little side of the room makes an admirable little pen when the entrance is blocked off with her crate. Oh, and looking at the picture you may think that she’s created a big mess, but I think it’s actually better than it was before…