The other day, a member of the U.S. Government was playing with his Blackberry when he should have been listening to a speech. He came across my entry, “I Ate A Deadly Snake” and, when he discovered it was really about how I made myself sick on too much STEAK, he shouted, “YOU LIE!” I understand he got in some trouble over it.
Another reason not to read this blog is that it is BORING. Even I don’t read it. I’ve had people tell me that it is not boring, but they’re people with actual lives, so it probably seems exotic to them. It’s like that Shirley Temple movie where she’s a little rich girl and gets lost in the city, and these poor Italian immigrants rescue her from the street and take her home and feed her, and she thinks their spaghetti is just the coolest thing ever.
I’ve been very domestic today. I processed the plum tomatoes I bought at the farmers’ market on Saturday and put them in the dehydrator. We didn’t get enough tomatoes to dry this year, so I was reduced to buying some. Might buy some more, if I can get back to the market. Some of them turned out to be not so nice, so I set those aside. I cut out the narsty bits and threw those away, and I’ll make a bit of spaghetti sauce (speaking of spaghetti sauce) for supper. I also cut most of our basil and am making pesto.
Charlie strung a clothes line across the back of the porch, and I washed towels and hung them out to dry. Here is a picture, with the playhouse he built our #4 daughter in the background. Also the dog. My mother claims he’s an elephant dog because we’ve never had an elephant in the garden. I’m like, “Well, he sure isn’t a rabbit dog or a deer dog. Next time I see a rabbit or a deer, I’m going to run out and put an elephant costume on it and maybe he’ll chase it off.”
Mom and I have a Friends of the Library meeting tonight, but we hope to get home in time to vote for the Kentucky chicken chaser in America’s Got Talent. I’m not sure I’d go to see him in Vegas, but I’m not likely to get to Vegas anyway. The excitement would probably kill me.
writing prompt: Make up a lie. Now inflate it into a damn lie.