Morning

Okay, this should probably be listed at The Tipping Point, but I have pretty much forgotten about that little sidebar. Nothing has really happened to really tip me in that forehead slapping way. But today . . . this morning . . . is one to remember, or not.

First, we started off late with a little bit of oversleeping that was not critical, but still annoying. Cameron left on the scooter; Summer hurried and I thought I’d take the dogs. Once in the car and with Shane pushed off the console, she said she didn’t think she could take the dogs this morning. Of course I told her that their little faces of wanting to go would always outweigh her face. She could understand that, but predicted a massive barkfest in the parking lot. I told her not to worry – the temperature was cool and the windows were up. HA! Sydney and Shane laugh at glass as a sound barrier. Plus the parking lot was more congested and we had to wait to get where she could disembark. That, you know, meant opening the door and letting the FULL BARK  waft on the breeze.

On the way home, I caught sight of a little face in the rearview mirror sending me fairgrounds vibes. Oh, that little face. I took them and as soon as I turned in on this August 26th, I realized it was the very start of the invasion of the BlueGrass Labor Day group. I drove way off into a corner and let them out and then I saw one man walking his poodle. I hit my forehead.

Barefoot, I got out and talked with him while trying to claim my miscreants. And in the back of my mind, behind the part that was churning out distracting conversation drivel, I remembered telling Summer their little faces would always win. My little face scrunched up into a “get over here now, you furballs” look of doom whenever I looked away from the man. HA! They ignored me.

Finally I get Shane in the car, but I have to start the engine to bring Sydney, who had decided to make a detour through a corral. Fortunately, I only had to brush manure dust off my shorts when he, at last, entered the vehicle. We made our escape. It was a delayed escaping, however, since the road was blocked by a sewer cam van and I had to take an alternate and longer way.

We are back now. Sydney is stretched out sleeping and Shane is somewhere with a Wubba . . . and I am sitting here smelling the slight aroma of manure dust.

One thought on “Morning”

  1. Close to 30 years ago we lived in a Chicago suburb. It was a huge transition for this farm girl to make but I was doing the best I could. One spring day I went outside and it smelled SO good. It was a pleasant nice smell and I sat on the deck just soaking it in. I saw my neighbor later that day over the fence and mentioned how nice it was that day, the smell of spring being so fresh. She got the strangest look on her face and said she’d been inside all day trying to avoid the smell. The confusion must have been very evident on my face because she said, “seriously, the people right behind you spread fresh manure all over their lawn, it stinks!” I realized then that it smelled like home to me. Oddly enough, 30+ years away from the farm and I still don’t mind the smell of manure. It’s an honest smell.

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