The kids were up late, so we slept in. I made a brunch of bacon, eggs and cheese grits.
Lucy called to see if Lillie wanted to join her on an outing to a nursery in New Jersey. I overheard Lillie’s excitement that Lucy’s pop star boyfriend would be along for the ride.
Being free of Lillie’s constant “Hey Dad” allows me to focus on the shitload of math homework Jason has to do. I need to go out and buy a protractor.
As I wrapped up some online stuff before running my errand, I got an instant message from Peabo, who has been reading the recent posts.
Which reminds me of one last relevant tale from the vault.
My apologies that the previous ones have touched on such dark issues—dead lovers, AIDS, teen abortion, child molestation . . .
I’m a Southern writer. We get Gothic at times.
This one, I promise, will be lighter.
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