Sunday off is a big deal. Sunday off without having to babysit or mow or run high and low is an even bigger deal. Sunday is the day of rest, so rest I did.
At tenish AM I was startled awake by a text message. I was to be at the vineyards at noonish. I am all about that but I'm in hibernation right now, sleep is good and I somehow can't get enough. But up and showered and in yesterday's clothes (don't tell!) I was vineyard bound where wine was consumed and cheese sweat itself into a frenzy and berries were had by all.
At one point the wedding was called off so I hurriedly sent a mass text to the eligible bachelors in my contacts list with only one reply and that was in the negative, thank God for small miracles I suppose because nine and three quarters seconds after the message(s) was sent the wedding was back on. Some photos and a second vineyard were in order and then best of all Frisbee Golf, oh, excuse me, Disk Golf.
At the park, mostly inappropriately dressed, we hunted for the beginning of the course, and settle with the end. The cheese wasn't the only thing the heat forced to sweat so when we missed "holes" on our course no one was terribly upset.
I got to impress the city folk about my plant and animal knowledge and scamper through knee high grass as if I was born to live like that. I am sad to report that I refrained from stripping to the skivvies and jumping in the pond but if you had seen it you would have understood. We ate mulberries off of trees and sucked the sweet nectar of the wild honeysuckle.
Hair mussed and feet blacked with dirt and the death whispers of summer grass, we introduced our foreign friend to the wonders of a Slurpee. She didn't go all out, it was a conservative Coke to start out but I'm sure she'll be mixing a masterful Slurpee soon enough.
The question of the ingrown hair is still out there... suggestions?
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