I was shamed into doing it

The post right below this one – that’s what I’m talking about. My buddies here at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse made me. They gave me that black-eyed stare. Rose, of course, looked at me as if to say, “Surely, she hasn’t lost her big HOO out of HOOSIER. Surely, she won’t let us down.”

So out I went and I wore a coat and a headband and gloves and moccasins without socks. I opened the front door to start the engine . . . and Shane jumped in. I sighed, contemplating a trip to the fairgrounds. Then I opened the truck and can you say “very, very lucky”? Not only were the cans not frozen, they were only at the slush stage; a little warming and all will be well.

But then I had to contend with Shane. To fairground or not? I would have to clear the outside of the car off and he would want me to get out and throw his Wubba . . . but I had no socks on. So I told Shane he could go later. Now, this is where I am ashamed. You know that part about going out with only moccasins? My father would have been quietly disgusted with me; I knew that and I did it anyway. BUT when the dog asked to go to the fairgrounds, I told him I had no socks. Please don’t tell Rose about this. I will carry my personal guilt all day long as it is. I’m sorry, Daddy, you are right; and I’m sorry Shane.

I already goofed up this morning with the gloves. I pulled one on my left hand and waited until I had started the car to put the other on the right. I thought, “OH, RATS, I’VE GOT TWO LEFTS.”  No, that wasn’t it; I had put the right glove on my left hand.