Unfortunately, class is not enough to exclude him from being the target of unfair ridicule here at the BRC. You think you are living high on the hog down here until you have a visitor from the West Coast, and then you realize what a bunch of country rubes we really are. He put on a brave face and drank the tap water without too much trouble, but I watched him blanch at the Miller High Life Tall Boy cans in the trash.
I assured him it was an oversight and placed them in the recycling bin- or as I like to think of it- the bin that takes cans and bottles to the secret dump where the recyclables go.
All organic fruits and vegetables aside, a better friend could not have dropped in on me right now. The moment I got the e-mail that announced his visit three months ago I went on high alert. I booked passage on the wagon. I knew he would not be rolling into town talking “Remember When” about bike rides and eating cheeseburgers. He would be expecting miles and lots of them. Indulge me a rare moment of candidness. I am awfully proud of myself for not letting him down.
Yesterday we rallied for a perfect Tallahassee experience. S’quatch delivered directions to the sinkholes which I often fail to locate, and while the work phone rang and rang at home, we floated in frosty comfort beneath a humid blanket of sunny green oaks and pines.
Later that evening it was front row seats and backstage passes to the air show on campus, but I have to wait for Bushy’s pictures before I get into that.
We will keep the lamps trimmed and burning Todd, and it was great to have you home.