December 21--Alan Kaplan, KAP2025. No one said anything about rain. Gretta spread a blanket on the grass and laid out a picnic spread that had taken her three days and fifty-seven dollars to assemble, not counting the wine. Hank leaned on his elbow, a small smile playing on his lips, watching her pull things out of her basket. "You're like a magician the way you're producing stuff. Does that thing have a false bottom?" He craned his head to peer into the hamper at her side. "No," she said, smiling, "it's like a puzzle inside, everything has its place." She set a plate in front of him and handed him his napkin with the silverware rolled in it. As she held the plate of sandwiches out to him rain began to fall like the second biblical flood. Greta shrieked. Hank picked up the four corners of the blanket with all the food, wine, and dishes inside and hustled the two of them to the shelter by the war memorial. The raindrops masked her tears and he couldn't stop laughing.
I think I'm going to go goof off the rest of the afternoon now that our Christmas is over and done with. Man, it feels pretty darned good to write that, good and a bit smug. Are you getting out your incense and patchouli oil for the Winter Solstice tomorrow? That means that the light will start to come back in tiny increments every day. Yay!
--Barbara
1 comment:
Maybe you and hubby can have a little snowball fight! Can't bear to think of all those cute crochet balls not being tossed around a little bit. Got the sweet card from your GB kids yesterday with the exciting news about 2016!! Yay for that for sure!
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