The phone rang early this morning. It was Christy’s gravelly voice on the other end of the line. “You up?” she croaked.
“Yes,” I moaned.
“I thought you’d be.
In the morning I bring Avelyn into the bathroom with me so I can keep an eye on her while I get myself made up and style my hair.
Harvest is upon us and the bulk of this weekend was spent picking the cherry crop.
This is the story of a girl.
She had been blessed with a thick head of full, thick dirty blond hair, but cursed with a lackluster metabolism.
She had a hard time controlling her somewhat unruly locks.
Last week’s berries glued
To the seat and tray and floor.
Kind of gross. Oh well.
I am working full-time this week and you know what? I kinda like it.