December 3--Christopher Marona, Summer Camp. Bud loved summer with its wide blue skies that went on forever but he purely hated living out at summer camp. Maybe if the stingy rancher built actual cabins for them to sleep in instead of the mildewed and mouse-chewed Army surplus canvas tents that had been out there for years. At each one there was a locked box with an iron skillet, a blue-speckled coffee pot, a few tin plates, and some snaggle-toothed forks for them to cook and eat with. "He thinks we're in the wild west," Charlie said, "like he expects John Wayne or the Lone Ranger to come over the hill to sign on." Bud shook his head. "No, he's just too cheap to lay out any money on things and people that are easily replaced. The whole family's like that." "Except you," said Charlie. "Except me," Bud said as he dished up beans and ham from the skillet onto their plates.
That came out easy last night and here I thought I'd never come up with word one when I saw the picture. Gives me faith that my brain's not slipped completely off it's rails, not just yet.
--Barbara
1 comment:
Hey - you're right! I do like the new layout of the blog. So we're not too old to change -- you to actually make a change and me to accept it! Loved talking with you last night. Nice to share our lives with each other so easily. Remember when long-distance was only for BIG news??? And not always good news??? Hope your hubby watched the Pack get a miracle win last night. I gave up on them early in the first quarter!! Guess I'm a fair weather fan.
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