I'm too busy to blog, Reader. Don't take it personally. It's not you. It's me.
These long hours at Tiny Town and killing my creativity. That, and I had my nose buried in a book this weekend (On the Island, read it, you'll like it. Maybe) and having dinner at My Friend Murd's house on Saturday night.
We see each other once every couple-ah years. Kinda like Cicadas. We pop out, make a lot of noise, and then wish each other glad tidings and part ways for another couple-ah years. It works for us. We e-chat almost daily but don't do much facetime. Because there's not enough timetime.
Anyway. He and his bride invited us over and while we were expecting tropical margaritas and burgers on the grill, they pulled out all the stops like we were fancy and threw some filets on the grill the likes that would make Gordon Ramsey proud. And we had an heirloom tomato and cucumber salad and some cubed potatoes cooked with garlic. We contributed the corn on the cob and the world's best chocolate chip cookies, but really it wasn't nearly enough in comparison to the meal we had.
And then? Their son asked if we were married because "we look like we should be." And then? He said, at 10:00, "I thought they'd be gone by now." Which made me laugh and pick up my purse to scadaddle. It's a fine line between eating and running and over-staying a six year-old's timeline of events.
It was a fun get-together. For me anyway.
There ya have it. All I have to give you tonight, Reader. It was a quickie. Now roll over and go to sleep.