I walked out of the building last night to see a ginormous pickup truck parked in the drive-thru by the security booth. I’m not much for trucks, but this one was gorgeous: not exactly rust, and not exactly brown. Just about the color of root beer in a clear glass with plenty of ice.
And the truck was wet all over. And this is Texas, and August. So I looked up and out, to where the ramp leads up out of the parking garage, and what do you know? It was raining. And the sun was shining. Because this is Texas.
By the time I finished stowing my bags in Lorelai’s trunk, took out what I would need to grab dinner on the way to the temple, and made it up to ground level, the shower was mostly over.
Yes, I went back to the temple last night. It’s part of an experiment, and I should have some results for you on Sunday.
But now I need to grab the gym bag and the water bottle and scoot on out the door. As I emailed the new guy a couple of minutes ago, I have a hot date this morning with the recumbent bicycle and a good book.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!