On Friday, my coworker gave me the cash for the Rangers tickets, so I went to the Farmers Market with my two best friends from work. Here are some pretty flahrs.
It is a measure of how stressed-out I was on Friday, that when I first read this sign, I thought it said banjos.
I’ve lived in Texas for over thirty years, which is why I know how to say flahrs. And have picked up enough Spanish to be able to distinguish between a rabbit (conejo) and a calf fry (cojone). And I do know how to hie myself to el bano, the natural consequence of consuming agua.
I should probably warn you that there will be all sorts of inappropriate laughter, chez Ravelled, until life gets itself sorted out. It’s one of the things my tribe does best. Which reminds me that it’s been far too long since I saw Fourthborn.
This is the view from the end of my driveway when I left the house on Friday:
And from the end of my sidewalk:
This is what it looked like when I came home that night:
Somebody needs to tell Thor to put away his Tonka trucks when he’s done with them.
A good talk with the new guy tonight. At this point, we don’t know whether he’s at stage 1 or it’s more serious. The other petri is also having a rough time of it, as is one of his boys, but everybody else seems to think things will be just fine. I buttonholed my home teacher [the bishop] and got a blessing after church today. The fireside tonight was worth the drive, I got two stellar hugs (not enough, but a start at least), the promise of an invitation to oldest son’s wedding when the date is firmed up.
I think I can go to work as usual tomorrow. I’ll see if I still feel that way in the morning.
Thor is a blast. We saw the 2-D version; Secondborn’s take (and mine) is, why spend extra money to see a 3-D film that will only make us nauseous?