So, yesterday I was out in the garden enjoying the morning air before it got too hot, watering and deadheading the flowers, saying good morning to the hens, throwing the ball for Shadow and River, clipping branches and stuffing them in the wheelbarrow. Just a nice, regular morning when it struck me - what's the date? I've been in San Diego visiting my kids and celebrating birthdays and have lost all track of time so I'm a little behind on some of my chores, like bookkeeping, like paying the bills, like paying the car registration which is due in TWO DAYS. Yikes! I have to get that thing mailed today.
I race into the house grab my car keys and slip out of my garden clogs and into my brand new purple flip flops. Maybe that will disguise the fact that my feet are filthy. Right. Never mind the outfit I have on - a holey tank top, baggy shorts which are three sizes too big held together by a huge safety pin (hey they were on sale years ago and have a million pockets great for gardening) and don't forget the hat, the squashed straw hat with the chewed brim from when River was a four month old. I kept the hat on
The dogs joyfully race after me as I open the car door and we're off for a ride down the mountain to the post office. You all know by now that I live in a VERY small town and the hub of any small town is the post office but I was praying that I wouldn't see anyone I knew. A quick in and out that's all. Who was I kidding? As soon as I stepped out of the Jeep clutching my DMV payment envelope I met the following in no particular order: two garden club ladies who wanted to chat about what a success the recent garden tour had been and how hot it was; one of my quilt group friends who wanted to discuss the meeting tomorrow; one of my husbands Rotary buddies; a group of two complaining about the quality of the newspaper even though I haven't managed the paper now for two years and a man who admired my dogs and wanted to discuss training tips!
Next time I'll just register on line.
Until next time,