Good morning, world. Today marks the 48th anniversary of the day that my husband was ejected from the mother ship. The universe has seen fit to grace him with sunshine, and hot weather- but not a chance to sleep late this morning.
I had my weeks completely fucked up on the calendar this week. Right up until late Friday afternoon, I had been looking at the prior week. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Shawshank had yesterday off, and we made the bi-weekly shopping trip. The drive out and back from Slightly BiggerTown was hazy. There’s a shitload of wildfires up here right now, and all the smoke is heading south.
It smells like Girl Scout camp. That’s all I can think of when I smell it. That scent hits my nose and it’s suddenly 1988 and I’m at camp with Jess and Andrea and Sara (or was it Sarah?) with 20 other troops. At least the sleeping arrangements are better.
The shopping was uneventful. We popped into all the shops in the plaza, just to make sure we found everything we wanted/needed, but we stuck to our list. It’s baby animal season, the pastures beside the road are dotted with wee little cows in the grass. Within an hour or so of our arrival, we were on our way back to TinyTown. We put the food away, ate lunch, and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening playing “Balatro” and smoking on the patio.
We’ll be heading out to Shady Acres this afternoon. Shawshank‘s mom is making him some chicken wings.
