Anyway, I drove into the driveway, threw The Weege (not really) and all my stuff and whathaveyou into the house and drove directly to my haircut appointment where Dennis systematically removed about 12 pounds of hair from my head.
Thank you again sir, you are a Scissor Wizard.
It was nothing short of a delight.
And although those 12 lost pounds did not make the outfit I wore to The Chief's company dinner thingie last night fit any looser, I say good riddance to them anyway.
A pound is a pound don't you think?
Anyway, because I've been at the farm and the internet reception is kind of hit-or-miss, and because I've been a little busy, and because I really have no idea what I'm doing when I use my laptop (like yesterday when I was just resting my fingers at the bottom of the keyboard and everything suddenly shrank down so small that the entire contents of a long e-mail I had written to my sister could have easily fit on the head of a pin)
TELL ME PLEASE. HOW DO THESE THINGS HAPPEN?
But let me finish my previously ended run-on sentence.
...because of all those things, I have not posted a picture or a recipe, or frankly ANYTHING at all that might be considered even remotely interesting for quite a long time.
And today will probably be no exception.
We'll try a couple of things.
Here's our new mattress. It was delivered the day I left town. As you can see I was so excited I took pictures. The delivery guys thought I was weird.
Last night was the first night I slept on it. The Chief had warned me that he thought I would think it was too firm. Oh The Chief, he knows me well. I wish I could say it's my dream mattress. It's not. It's better than the old one... which I guess is not saying much since that one, IT WAS AWFUL.
We do have a period of time during which we can exchange it for a different one if we are not satisfied, and we're thinking that might be an option. Of course, you pay all kind of penalty and other "bad choice punishment" fees.
Can you help me out here? If we trade this one back in, what do you think they do with it? Do they sell it again? Is that legal? Because, NO. THANK YOU. MA'AM.
OK. So the other day I get back down to the farm in the late evening. It was one of the first days we'd had without constant high winds. I had been at the hospital most of the day so I was looking forward to walking down to the lake and being in the out of doors for a bit. Well, I looked down the hill and I see this truck parked right on the lake shore.
Right about then the phone rang. It was The Chief.
Me: " Hey Chief. I was going to walk down to the lake and maybe take some pictures and maybe pick some berries and maybe see some snakes or something and there's an unidentified truck parked down there and it's kind of creepy."
The Chief: "Well, go down there and see who it is. Tell them they are trespassing."
Me: "But what if it's a murderer or something?"
The Chief: "Well, we especially don't want murderers trespassing. No. You definitely need to get rid of them, Lu. Just hop in The Mule, drive down there and find out who it is. Take Care of Business."
Me: "OK, will do Chief. I will take The Weege because he is, you know, so SCARY and all."
The Chief: : "Good Deal. Talk to you later."
Maybe I should mention that The Chief is not what you would consider an "alarmist". Neither does he watch all the spiffy murder-investigation type shows that are ever so helpful in formulating my idea of why an unidentified truck would be parked at the lake.
Unidentified truck at the lake = serial killer.
So to be all official and such I decided to take my camera and actually snap some photos of the truck which would, of course, be so scary and intimidating to the owner/criminal that they would drive away in fear of my crime fighting/surveillance techniques.
And so The Weege and I strategically drive by the truck and I snap pictures left and right. And had it not been for the fact that every single time I slowed down to take a picture The Mule died and I would have to spend like 10 minutes getting it started again, IF NOT FOR THAT I would have looked very competent and threatening.
And the more pictures I took, the more I thought I could have maybe, perhaps seen that truck somewhere before. Maybe.
My nephew, Wes, came out of nowhere in his kayak.
And Weegie said, "Mom, it's just Wes. You're a dork."
Well, that is not normally the truck Wes drives. Really
And when I tried to laughingly explain to Wes what I had been doing, he just replied
"Yea, I kind of figured you were trying to be all CSI-ish with the photographs and stuff."
And in his embarrassment, The Weege gave me a look and slunk back to The Mule.
What can I say? I do my best.