We pedaled out to one of the lakes this weekend. Going out there is nice. Getting out of the lakes is a different thing, because there are hills. We thought we knew hills. We didn’t know hills. But here’s the big “everybody goes here” lake:
Allie stayed home, thank you very much. She is enjoying her afternoons on the landing in the sun.
She looks like she’s in a scene of a kitteh noir, doesn’t she?
“He walked through my door like a hooman with no tuna, all slow and clumsy with excuses for hours. No Joe I knew would think to come here without tuna, and he knew the game, so the jig was up. His rap was tired. He had the kind of expression that told me he was a hapless sort. He had bad news written all over his face. At least the pets were pretty good.”
The Yankee made an apple pie.
When that happens you enjoy your apple pie. (It was tasty.)
