Today, me and the hubs cut up an oak tree that fell in the side yard an eon ago. About half way through the project I caught a glimpse of our neighbor, Lucy, making her way up the drive with a bag in her hands. Come to find out Lucy’s daughter got herself a bread machine the other day and we’re the lucky recipients of her latest effort.
After the hauling and stacking of that old oak tree and the eating of Lucy’s daughter’s homemade banana walnut bread, it was high time for a nap. Just as I was about to doze off the phone rang. I answered to hear the earth shattering news that my dog was in the across-the-street neighbor’s yard. Not that that neighbor minded; he don’t live here…No the call was from the overly-concerned-about-everyone-else’s-dog-in-the-whole-freeking-world-neighbor who lives up the road a good bit. You know the one who is likely to “rescue” your dog from a 4 inch gap in your passenger side window while you run into the “convenience store” to grab a bag of Gardettos and a lemon lime Gatorade small enough to actually fit into the cup holder on your 27 year old pick-up? Yeah, that’s the one who called to inform me of my dog’s whereabouts on her way home from church this afternoon. Bless her heart.
So much for a peaceful nap. By the time I got off the phone and my boots on and my hat on and my jacket on and then off again (cause the daffodils are blooming and its too damn hot for a jacket even though it’s the first week in FEBRUARY. Hear that Mother Nature?! Its FEBRUARY!!), the goats were hollarin’ for their dinner and the dog was headed up the drive. Time to feed.
An hour later I was back in the house to whip up some skillet mac n’ cheese with a side of vodka. Yep, suppose I can think of many worse ways to spend a Sunday in February. Thank you Jesus. Life sure is good.
This post is linked to Homestead Barn Hop