I’m currently sitting in my itty, bitty, 90-degree yard-barn office feeding sweat beads to the corn flies while I simultaneously nag summer interns for missing homework assignments. It’s a glamorous life.
But in my mind, I’m cool as a cucumber.
Why?
My brain cells are already channeling October.
Ah, October, that blissful autumn month when the weather doesn’t quite suck – a real treat, here in the Midwest. I’m meditating on my favorite season because that’s when my novel, SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED, makes its debut.
Until then, however, I’ll just sit here and ooze odor while I anticipate a few months ahead. To distract myself, though, I think I’ll take a stroll down Facebook memory lane and share a few musings and tidbits from my otherwise quiet, little country life:
“Right after my 15-year-old son hit the tree with the Jeep, he told me what I did wrong.”
“Splurged and got a Swifter 360 Extended Duster and now I can reach the crucifix over my doorway and finally dust Jesus.”
“Just had a college finance major ask me why getting a C on her final exam didn’t raise her B+ to an A-. “
“If you happen to be in the left stall in the women’s restroom at Nick’s in Bloomington, can you please pass me some TP?”
“Only two days after joining choir, my son took up song writing and penned a tear-jerking ode about a boy who comes home from school hungry and wants his mother to cook for him. Now.”
“Are vegetarians allowed to have chickens on their kitchen towels or does that constitute false advertising?”
“There must be a moron tattoo on my forehead that only children can see.”
“Today the world isn’t my oyster because I don’t give a shuck.”
“I must be part manatee because I have the innate ability to turn lettuce and seaweed into fat.”
A rural route sunrise
Robin Winzenread 