We woke up to a stormy, rainy day. You know I love those. But it wasn’t so comy cozy because Ben had to finish the plumbing job he started for my aunt yesterday now that he had the right supplies. I wanted to visit her, and he wanted to get it done for her. So off we went, in the pouring rain. It’s a great man that I married. I don’t know how I managed it.
He had to unscrew the siding on her guest house to access the plumbing, then put it all back on when he replaced the pipe. He was soaked to the bone, but didn’t mind. While he worked, I hung out inside with Mae. She was excited to show me her 1985 calendar journal she recently discovered where the first ever mention of my existence is documented. On January 2, 1985 she wrote “Karen came, may be pregnant.” It gave me a chill to think of my mama, about my age, preparing for another baby on the way. Me!
We got home to find that Baker just played dead all morning. You know, thunder and whatnot.
And tonight for dinner, we went out to see my parents and grandmother—whom I found to be wearing some wide leg linen trousers that are SO HOT RIGHT NOW.
She told me that she hates these pants. They fall off when she sneezes. The end.